Ensign Orden is a Rebel intelligence specialist stationed on Echo Base. She accompanied the PCs on their first foray into piracy.
Orden hardly appears at first glance to be a credible threat to the Empire. She is a slightly-built, nerdy, and bookish young woman with Asian features; the uncharitable would go so far as to say she's built like a 14-year-old boy. She's nothing in a fistfight, and she's only marginally skilled with firearms. Where she shines is in her ability to make (sometimes amazing) logical leaps and analytical connections. She is truly a top-flight intelligence analyst.
In conjunction with her analytical skills, she is somewhat talented with sensors, security devices, and communications, but she is not truly a first-rate slicer. She can often patch the necessary equipment together for a single mission, but she is never truly comfortable with the mission relying upon her technological skills.
Orden is also not particularly comfortable with interpersonal relationships, feeling much more comfortable when she can dig into reams of data to back up her conclusions. There is obviously some confluence of nature and nuture that caused Orden to develop her borderline-autism style of interpersonal interaction, but she does not speak about her past. So far, the only historical data anyone has really managed to collect on Orden is that she was born and grew up on Corellia.
Orden has a level of single-minded obsessiveness when she really focuses on a piece of work, particularly a complicated analysis. During these times, she can and will perform actions that are incredibly embarrassing (to her or others) without realizing, often until hours, days, or (occasionally) even weeks later.
Weight: 110 lb.
Hair: Shoulder-length very straight black hair. When on duty or on assignment, she usually wears her hair pulled tightly up into a bun where it cannot easily be grabbed in a brawl.
Eyes: Dark brown
Orden is only slightly below average height, but she's incredibly skinny. Her weight appears to be completely uncorrelated with her eating habits, which are as sporadic and uncoordinated to reality as everything else about her.
Unspent Character Points: 6
Orden is extremely unlikely to spend points on interpersonal-interaction skills. She tends to focus on knowledge; she would also be drawn to skills involving knowledge acquisition (e.g., sensors) or, sometimes, knowledge use (e.g., some technical skills). Orden is not athletic, but she has an almost preternatural ability to dodge incoming fire. Other than that, she is relatively uninterested in, though not above learning, some combat skills (though she'll never really be a combat-centric character).
|Dexterity 4D||Knowledge 5D||Mechanical 2D|
|Melee||4D||Alien Species||6D+2||Starship Gunnery||3D+1|
|Perception 2D+1||Strength 2D||Technical 3D|
|Search||5D+1||Space Transports Repair||4D|
- Standard Blaster Pistol
- 4D damage
- Barely used
- Blast Vest
- +1D physical
- +1 energy
- Body Glove
- Temperature-controlled powered clothing
- Minor bonuses to survival, stamina in harsh environments
- Jury-rigged multi-spectral scanner
- Life form scanner
- Magnetic anomaly detection
- Communications frequency activity scanner
- Electronic emissions scanner
- Infrared scanner
- Remote Text Data scanner
- Encrypted Datapad
- Added Universal Computer Interface
- Requires 100-credit annual upgrade fee
- All data encrypted to a paranoid degree with multi-level encryption protocols
- Decoy Datapad
- High end
- Uses basic encryption
- Contains virtually no relevant or real data
- Transliterator with 500-language basic package
- Universal Power Adapter
- Computer Toolkit
- Security Systems Toolkit
- High-end businesswear
- Elegant Antaran dress
- Corellian-style business suit
- Corellian-style power suit
- 2000 credits
Earns 1000 credits/month for her rank… that is, when she can get back to Third Fleet to actually pick up her pay….
- Admela Dallie, business manager aboard the Prospect
- Coria Beren, CEO of Eriss Capital
Orden is generally very withdrawn, apparently very uncomfortable around other people. Sometimes, though, it's like a switch is flipped, and she drops into an almost-manic barrage of rapid-fire conversation. Generally, the switch is flipped only when discussing things she is particularly passionate about (this may be a borderline personality disorder…). Thankfully, her passions closely align with her duties as a Rebellion intelligence analyst.
In general, however, Orden isn't super-perceptive when it comes to interpersonal relationships. Think Parker on Leverage for personality inspiration, though of course she is hardly the super-thief that Parker is.
Orden's people skills are like a low-priority but long-running background thread. They're not absent, but they don't return quickly, and they were pulled together from disparate and ill-tested libraries by an intern over the course of a couple of weeks. She can process individual social exchanges and eventually retrieve the correct answer (after more analysis than the optimal algorithm), but any complex situations tend to have some sort of embedded bug causing her to return high, return low, or just throw some odd exception that she has to handle later.
Well, every operation has to have a commander. I guess the Commander is as good a commander as any. Sometimes he just doesn't listen, though. I mean, the connections are so obvious, and I just have to draw him so many pictures… Sometimes it's better if I just do it myself. Still, he's no worse than any of the other commanders, and he mostly leaves me alone to finish my puzzles.
He was more interesting back when we first met and he would give me all sorts of new puzzles to solve. Now he's just another commander. He should listen more.
(When Orden first met Venn on Hoth, she remembered him as "the talky guy." However, since being assigned to his crew, Orden has refiled him in her brain under "Commander," some vestige of her military training poking through. Orden doesn't interact with Venn very much, aside from receiving orders. She recognizes that he is her superior officer at an intellectual level, but she doesn't really understand the purpose of the command structure aside from giving her an immediate direction. She has enjoyed her more recent assignments under Venn, though, as she now has access to new and exciting intel — though she could do without so much blaster fire….
Orden has an impressive amount of intelligence data on the Tyree family as well, including a considerable dossier on Venn himself. She has not revealed this and is unlikely to do so unless directly questioned.)
I guess someone has to fly the ship. I dunno. I mean, it's a ship. He flies it. We go places. We usually go where we need to go. So… pilot-guy.
(Orden has had very little interaction with Kane to this point. She has never spared much of a thought for him, as she doesn't think that much about other people unless they are in her face.)
Yay! Speaking of puzzles, he's just full of them. I mean, he can't give me any new puzzles for all this military stuff, but he always has something. If only all that stupid law enforcement training hadn't broken him so much - I mean, some of that stuff is useful and all, but it's all so limiting…. At least he usually listens to me, and he tries to learn the good way to do things, but sometimes he's so slow…. Still, I guess he at least tries.
I do kinda like being around him, I think. He's all big and… well, big. And he talks to be a lot. Or, well, a lot more than most people talk to me. He keeps trying to get me to do things like shooting and running and stuff, like back in basic. I used to think he was just trying to keep all the crew in shape - we've all gotta be in shape, or that's bad for everybody. That's an easy pattern to see. But he broke that pattern, 'cause he mostly does that stuff with me, and sometimes with other people, but more with me. It was confusing. I had to get more data. The medic is really good at piecing people together - not just bodies, but also brains. I think that's why she's the medic. That fits the pattern, right? But anyway, I had to talk to her to get more data. She's giving me more data, but she's stingy, and she sometimes just tells me to do things and I don't always understand. But she keeps saying I'll understand better if I figure it out myself, and I know that's true - you always understand the puzzle better if you have to solve it without someone giving you all sorts of stupid hints.
Anyway, I don't know. Tam. Yeah… he's good. He talks to me all the time about interesting stuff. And he even listens to me when I tell him to do stuff. And he's big….
(When Orden first met Tam on Hoth, she knew him as "the big guy" — fitting, given their relative statures and his imposing armor. Until he was nearly killed during the new base recon mission, Orden didn't really think twice about her relationship with Tam - he was just always kind of around, and she could always depend on him for some additional insight into Imperial tactics and the Imperial mindset in general. However, after that mission, she has begun to recognize that there might be something else going on. As a new problem, her obsessive mindset can't help but focus on trying to figure it out; however, as a social problem, her borderline personality disorder can't help but get in the way of her figuring it out. She's been working with Rourke to figure out just what she really wants to do about that….)
She's the Hoth of people. She's all cold and snowy on the outside, but there's a mantle of flowing hot.. something under there. But it takes a lot of drilling to get to that hot stuff. She hides all her secrets under her icy outsides, and she doesn't tell them to me.
I use her to practice my "observational" skills that the medic is always talking about. I have to observe her really hard to get any new data from Hoth-lady. She has a lot of secrets, though, so observing her is fun. I know so many of her secrets….
Hoth-lady and the Commander think that nobody knows about what they're doing, but I know. I think the medic knows, too. If you know about the puzzles, that pattern is so easy to see. That breaks the Rebel pattern, but the Commander said we wouldn't follow the Rebel pattern all the way because we're out on our own so much. I believe him. I've been watching the medic, and she doesn't have a problem with it, so I think I'll just leave it alone.
She can't not be the medic. I solve all these big puzzles, and she's just like me, only with different puzzles, small puzzles - but they're important puzzles. She solves all the body puzzles. She's good at the brain puzzles, too, but not the big brain puzzles, the little ones where people just can't talk to other people right.
She's a good person and a good puzzle solver. But she talks so much abut those silly shoes….
The computer guy. He's good with computers. I can understand him when we work on the computers together. He doesn't want everyone to know how good he is with computers or how much time he spends with them, but I know. I don't understand why he doesn't want other people to know. He's such a good computer guy, and the way he acts, I thought he'd want everyone to know that. He seems to want everyone to know everything else he's good at, even if he can't show any evidence he's good at it. I don't think I really understand him. But I can understand him when we work on the computers.
Who? Oh, yeah, the punchy-lady. She fights with Tam sometimes. It's just sparring, he says, and, umm, he's "gotta get his practice in somehow." I don't like it.
Lile and Ma'tala
"Who? Oh, yeah, Drunky and the Tramp. They're… people… we… sorta know. I mean, he's just another one of those kinda borderline lawless drunk space smuggler guys, and they're not dependable. And she… has problems."
Thoughtfully, to herself: "… but… well… I mean, they kinda…. See, they're both broken! But they put each other back together! Sure, there's still all these bits missing, and sometimes pieces break off again, but they still try…."
This section will be used for quotes that illustrate the character.
This section contains stories or notes about important events in Orden's life.
This information is classified and will only be released into the archives once the relevant blackout period has cleared.
Joining the Rebellion
This story took place when Orden was approximately 17 standard years old.
The droids were so predictable. Orden knew the automated traffic patterns by heart; she could have set her chronometer by the movements of the transit speeders, if she'd had one to set. Nothing but automated transits came out this far into the manufacturing district; the droning of the passing speeders was all that allowed her to sleep most nights. After half of a local year, she could have reproduced the sound pattern for any given weekday at will. Maybe that's why the new speeder pulled her from her dreams: the noise pattern was wrong, all wrong. It didn't fit, like an extra piece in a jigsaw puzzle.
Orden had to resist the impulse to bolt up from her hidey-hole. At this time of night, the droids (dense as they were) would immediately sound an alarm if there were any sudden unprogrammed movements in the area. Slowly, her muscles stiff, she crept to the overlook to spy on this interloper. Since no alarms had been sounded, she assumed it must have been some sort of authorized factory visit, but why at this hour? Curiousity got the better of her natural timidity, and she risked a peek through the panel grating at the new arrival.
Orden knew at once that the visiting vehicle was a fraud. The armor plating could have been overlooked, a protective measure for a VIP. The same logic could be used to explain away the concealed blasters. The crooked and discolored Rendili logo, though, that was not so easily dismissed. The men exiting the speeder didn't fit the VIP pattern, either. Their movements were too fluid, their heads on too much of a swivel. These men were not executives or technicians; they had been trained to kill.
Orden, to her surprise, felt a momentary surge of indignant anger at this revelation: this was her turf! She'd been here for months, teasing in system taps, creating her blackout areas, and packing away innocuous paydata! She ran this facility! These… these butchers were trespassing in her home!
Unusually driven by this sense of invasion, Orden carefully crept her way along her tiny network of sensor-blinds to where the armored speeder had parked. The team was obviously ready for trouble; Orden spotted the guard and the wheelman as soon as she could see the curb-side of the speeder. Orden could tell at a glance that she couldn't face these men down with a stern word or a sudden lighting failure. Tripping an alarm would probably be more dangerous for her than it would be for them; at a minimum, they had a speeder and a (likely exceedingly well-planned) escape route. Well, she thought, let's see if we can put a bit of a dent in those plans. Not fully sure why she'd had such a strong reaction, Orden trusted her instincts; she triggered some of the "failsafe protocols" she'd paid so dearly to have inserted into the system. The first tripped a system logger that would dump any new directives to her desperately-scrounged datapad. The second tweaked the planned maintenance droid routes in a way that should be unnoticed by the periodic maintenance staff but devastating to a high-speed pursuit (or, in this case, escape). A third gave her direct control over a small handfull of the tens of thousands of mouse droids roaming tha facility. She pulled up the fourth and final routine, but she didn't yet trigger it; doing so would cause an overload that would trip some of the manufacturing failsafe sensors and create a new escape route for her.
With that sorted, Orden slid down behind the the machine again, ducking in where she couldn't be seen. Flipping over to her mouse-droid feed, she quickly found a couple that were rigged for welding and electronics work, directing them to meander underneath the speeder. She spent some minutes puzzling out the proper commands to direct the droids to attach a standard RSD comms core to the speeder's powerplant. Fingers crossed, she hoped the noise of all the machinery would keep the guards from noticing the activity. Still, she figured it would be best to give them something else to deal with, so she quickly directed another couple of droids toward the administrative building where the speeder was parked. Hopefully, those two puttering around "doing maintenance" near the guard's feet would be enough to steal his attention for a few moments.
After another twenty minutes passed, Orden finally breathed a sigh of relief as the team stormed out of the building (in what looked to her untrained eye like a professional military formation). The vehicle guard shifted quickly to cover the rear of the speeder, nonchalantly kicking a mouse droid across the walk as he dropped to a knee and raised his blaster. Orden's heart leapt to her throat momentarily as the barrel of the rifle swung directly toward her position, but thankfully, the guard continued sweeping past her hidey-hole as the other piled into the speeder. Orden dimly realized that two of the men were carrying pilfered datapads; she was only dimly aware as her fingers flicked through to the access logs and disabled her now-useless infiltration scripts.
Retreating cautiously to her normal nest, Orden pondered what the quiet raid meant. Something nagged at her about the team. She desperately wanted to review her logs, but she couldn't risk the distraction yet; first, she needed to make sure she was still safe. Upon returning to her sensor blind, she swept the area carefully to see if any alarms had been tripped or if any droids had stumbled upon her location. She unleashed all of her obsessive-compulsive worries on checking, double-checking, and finally triple-checking the area; as far as she could determine, she hadn't been outed. Finally satisfied, and with the sun begining to rise, she settled in to rest; she would review the logs when she had more brainpower, after she'd gotten some sleep.
When Orden finally woke shorly before midday, she immediately set upon her datapad. Her stomach gnawed at her, but she'd run out of cached food over a day ago; she needed paydata (and a safe time to leave the factory) before she could eat again. Besides, her curiosity was even more powerful — and she might be able to sell something she'd find in her digging.
At first, the stolen access log data only confused Orden. The infiltration team seemed only to be looking up employee records. There didn't seem to be much of a connection between the employees: different departments, different career codes, different ages, even different locations. Still, something nagged at Orden. Why send such a highly-trained and heavily-armed team in just to steal personnel records? And why just these specific records? Intrigued, Orden began to sift through the details of the employees' records more carefully; still, by the time night fell, she had failed to figure out just what these people might have in common or why someone would be interested in them.
With her hunger threatening to overwhelm her concentration, Orden finally pulled herself away from the records and started considering just how she might obtain some food. She debated trying to steal from the commissary, but as she always had before, she dismissed that idea out of hand; the normally-human-accessible areas of the facility were heavily monitored, and she'd not dared trying to selectively blind sensors in those areas. The risk of detection was far too great. Her mind drifted back to the personnel records. Perhaps one or more of these employees might be interested in hearing about the events of last night… and perhaps someone might even be willing to provide a little reward in return for the information. Flipping through the records quickly, Orden landed on a young engineer's profile. Something about him told her that he might be a good place to start.
She let her indecisiveness slow her only for a moment before her growling stomach vetoed her fright. She needed to eat. Gathering up her 'pad and her few belongings, she swept the area once more and slowly made her way to her safe exit.
Hours later, Orden had finally made her way to the engineer's address. Glancing at her datapad, she reminded herself once again of his name: Danabom Min. But how could she approach him? This time, she had no nearby intermediary to go through, no back-alley blackmailer to whom she could sell the data. She knelt in the alley for she didn't know how long, racking her brains for ideas on how to make first contact.
While waiting, Orden noticed a speeder pulling up outside Danabom's building and felt an odd sense of deja vu. While the speeder wasn't the same make or model as the one from the Rendili StarDrive yards, something about the way it pulled up and just waited caused her to flash back to that raid. Still pondering how to get in touch with the engineer, she resolved to keep an eye on the speeder.
While eyeballing the speeder, Orden noticed a dark silhouette matching Danabom's build approaching the building. Apparently, the occupants of the speeder noticed as well; Orden saw some slight movement through the darkly-tinted windows. To her surprise, the fear that had been gripping Orden's mind the entire evening suddenly drained away in a rush of clarity. She suddenly knew what was going to happen. In a few seconds, the doors to the speeder would burst open as Danabom passed by. He would turn at the commotion, and the team inside the speeder would mercilessly gun him down. She had to intervene, but she had so little time! Almost on instinct, she dashed out of the alleyway and sprinted over toward the approaching engineer. He stepped aside, apparently to let her pass by, but otherwise paid her little attention; he appeared to be deep in thought about something. As she passed close to him, she straightened suddenly and punched him as hard as she could in the face, grabbing his bag as he stumbled. She turned and took off back down the alleyway as the engineer, swearing, started to pursue her, yelling for someone to call in law enforcement.
Orden ran as hard as she could, darting from alley to street to alley as Danabom pursued her. She'd started with the element of surprise, but he easily had a foot on her and kept pace without ceasing his calls for someone to stop her. Thankfully, the late hour and the surprise kept the few passerby from reacting quickly enough.
After dashing into what must have been the fifth alleyway, Orden spotted a slightly-concealed doorway. She dodged into it just before Danabom turned into the alley to follow her. Not seeing her, he dashed just past her; as he did, she tackled him from behind and whispered into his ear, "Shut up, just shut up! I'll shoot if you make a sound!" Apparently, this took Danabom by surprise, at least enough that he didn't immediately realize she didn't have a blaster.
Orden quickly dragged Danabom back into the doorway, finally allowing him to turn to face her. Before he could react, she tossed his bag back to him and flipped around her datapad to show him his employment record. "You're welcome."
Danabom was understandably confused, but he stuck in the alley long enough to hear Orden out. She quickly filled him in on how she'd gotten access to his employee records. Surprisingly, he didn't immediately dismiss her story. Instead, as soon as she told him about the raid, he started off at speed without a word.
Orden dashed off behind him. As she ran after him, he pulled a comms unit from his coat and contacted someone; Orden couldn't hear what he said, but she saw him stumble slightly and watched his face fall upon receiving some news from whoever he'd contacted. He seemed to then suddenly remember that Orden existed. Quickly, he spun to charge her. She ducked aside as he grabbed for her datapad.
"Give me that data! Now!"
Orden dodged away as Danabom continued lunging frantically for the 'pad, but she knew almost immediately that she'd miscalculated. She was small and usually quick, but she hadn't eaten well for months; today's run had taken most of her remaining energy. Danabom had reach on her, and though he was much slower and clumsier, he was wiry and energetic. Orden knew it was only a matter of time before he managed to take the 'pad, now all she had, from her. In desperation, she dove hard to the left, but her luck had run out. She felt her foot slide out from under her as she stepped out, and the last thing she remembered was seeing the doorframe approaching fast in her peripheral vision.
Orden awoke with a start, panting in complete panic. She didn't know where she was, didn't recognize her surroundings at all. In her fear, she tried to roll and dive into a corner where she could plan an escape from… wherever, but she found herself cuffed to the… bed… she was in an actual bed, apparently a medbed of some sort. She also started to realize that all was not quiet as she had first thought; she could now hear a low thrum underneath everything. She was on a ship!
Before she could truly get her bearings, a large man in a military uniform of some sort strode in, obviously appraising her as he entered. Somehow, her indignancy at this helped her bring her previous panic under control. She jutted out her chin defiantly as he looked her up and down, forcing herself to meet his eyes when he looked into her face again.
"Well, you're looking better, at least. Now tell me, who are you, girl?" He asked casually as if he expected that the answer would only confirm what he already knew. When Orden just stared at him, he sat down in a small chair by the bed and pulled out a datapad - her datapad! "Okay, then, I'll start. Your name, or the name you're going by, is Amanha Orden. You have no listed family and no apparent friends… though you do communicate with some very interesting people on occasion. You've been spending the last few weeks hiding out at a Rendili StarDrive substructure manufacturing plant on Rendili."
As he started reading off her history, Orden's spirits fell. She was trapped, cuffed to a bed without any of her meager possessions. She was in some sort of custody by a military officer who was obviously in possession of all the information she'd bothered to keep with her. Still, she tried to keep her face neutral. Maybe if she just stayed quiet, stayed calm, she could figure out a way out of this. Her brain churned hard as she half-listened to him rattling off even more details about her recent life. They'd obviously cracked her encryption, so they'd spent some resources on her. She was on a ship: she must have been kept out for at least a day or so. She still had her clothing, she was on a medbed, and her head didn't hurt: she must have been treated, and she must not have been injured beyond the blow to the head. As all this ran through her head, something the officer said made it through.
"You sound to me like you're in desperate need of a job."
Had she heard him correctly? Did she potentially have a way out? Could she just play along and they'd let her go? She quickly quenched the burst of hope that surged through her - not now, not yet! Cautiously, she formulated her reply. "Just what are you offering?"
The next few hours sent Orden's head spinning. The officer finally introduced himself as an Alderaanian General, Erran Senesca. He was working for or with some agency, some kind of interplanetary intelligence agency she'd never heard of. As he explained it, they were an internal governmental police of sorts, "the watchers that watch the watchers." They'd been through her files; they knew what she did, how she lived. But they didn't want to put her in prison… they wanted to put her to work as an analyst.
Finally, after nearly an hour, the General left, handing her datapad back to her as he did. Her head still spinning from all she'd learned, she debated with herself what to do. She could join up, but could she trust these people? She'd lived so long staying under the radar of the very people who were now hosting her. Could she possibly trust them? On the other hand, even if she were to escape, would they let her stay away for long? Sure, she knew how to run, how to purge her records and start again, but they knew about her now. Would they really just let her go?
Finally, reluctantly, Orden made her decision. She slid her datapad across her lap and tentatively keyed it on. She stared thoughtfully at the prompt burning on the screen, knowing she'd made her choice but reluctant to commit to it. Finally, she took a deep breath. Then silently, cautiously, she pressed one key and set the datapad back down, exhausted. The last thing she saw as she finally drifted off to a normal sleep for the first time in days was the afterimage of the lit-up "accept" button burning brightly on the screen.