#unconquerable soul.

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     He wanted to put it to her straight: did the Jedi know about executions? Did they ever discuss what went on once the battles were over? But he knew Kal’buir would be angry if he raised Etain’s blood pressure and harmed the child, so he bit his lip—literally—and let his anger and mistrust pass.     She’s just a kid. She’s just like Bard’ika, only not as confident and as good at the job. You have to back off.     It was a physical effort to shut up. Ordo could taste salt and metal, blood wet on his lip. “I’m sorry.” He focused on what Skirata would want and fought down the impulse to take out his resentment and frustration on Etain, not because it was unfair but because it might lead to events that would upset Kal’buir and Darman. He wanted to ask her why only a handful of Jedi objected to a slave army, and why they could claim to believe in the sanctity of all life and yet treat some life as being exempt from that respect. It was a question he should have put to Zey, too. Instead he parted his lips and heard himself say, “Let’s change the subject. If Besany’s offered to cook dinner for me, does she mean dinner, or…”     [Etain insists he tell her about the covert ops troopers.]     Etain seemed to be framing difficult words. “Ordo, I can’t help being a Jedi. I never had any more choice than you did, and I can’t turn off my Force abilities any more than you can switch off your brain. So you scare me, because I can sense the dark side in you, all the violence and anger, but it’s all pushed down, and I just wonder when you’re finally going to erupt and lose control.”     It was nothing he didn’t know already.     [Ordo and Etain talk briefly about killing and thinking of it purely as something that must be done.]      [Ordo reflects on how the Republic is rotting from the inside out.] But taking out his disgust on a frightened, pregnant girl who was as disenfranchised as he was—disenfranchised, that was it—wasn’t the Mando way. Ordo felt deeply ashamed, as if his anger had been an entirely separate person for those few moments, not even part of him. He always did when it got the better of him. Etain had a point.

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Motive mattered. Motive gave you the capacity to think like the enemy, want what they wanted, and then snatch it from them. And killing clone troopers—mainly troopers, if you didn’t count the unfortunate civilians who were also in the way—made the point that the Seps could come and go as they pleased. Ordo took it personally. He drew on the memory of sharp, cold fear and focused hatred that he had learned on Kamino before a total stranger had stepped in front of him and saved his life.

Republic Commando: Triple Zero, Karen Traviss

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“Ooh, nice new skirt!” said Fi. “You went to all that trouble just for us? What happened to the old kama? Did it shrink in the wash?” He got up and stood a pace or two in front of Ordo, still grinning and clearly expecting some backslapping or some other show of delight at reunion after several months. “’Scuse me, Sergeant,” Ordo said calmly, and smacked Fi down on the floor with a none-too-playful body press. Fi yelped. Being hit by someone in armor when you weren’t wearing your own hurt. Boss’s expression was a study in shock. The Delta boys jerked upright in their seats and stared as if they were debating whether to step in and break it up. Ordo looked like cold death; even Skirata had times when he wasn’t quite sure which way Ordo would jump. “Your big mouth is going to get you into a lot of trouble one day,” the ARC hissed. Fi, eyes locked on Ordo’s, neck tensed, looked ready to fight back. “So you better hope I’m there when that happens.” Then Ordo burst out laughing and got to his feet in one move. He hauled Fi upright by his arm, slapping his back enthusiastically. “The old firm back together again, eh? Good stuff!” Boss glanced at Skirata, who smiled enigmatically, or so he hoped. Nulls were either your best friend or your worst imaginable enemy. Fi, luckily, had a devoted friend. He still looked shaken by the nature of the reunion, though.

Republic Commando: Triple Zero

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“Usually,” Ordo said, holding a gloved hand out to Besany for the DH-17, “folks beg me for leniency at this point.” Lemmeloth was ashen. His gaze tracked discreetly around the speeder’s cramped cargo area, as if he thought he stood a chance at seven thousand meters if only he could get to the hatch. “It’s not going to happen, is it?” “No.” Ordo adjusted the force settings on the blaster. Besany felt her gut tighten. “But I’m not a savage. Professional courtesy and all that.” Then—no speeches, no insults, no warning—Ordo simply raised the DH-17, held it to the agent’s temple, and fired. It discharged with a loud bdapp. The man slumped off the seat and hit the deck with a thud. It was fast, dispassionate, and shocking.

Republic Commando: Order 66

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We could be watching them as they die. [...] “We’ve had worse days,” Fi said cheerfully. Ordo knew he meant it. He could feel the other part of him, the Ord’ika who wanted to cry for his brothers, but he was very distant, as if in another life: there was just absolute cold detachment in the physical shell where his mind was situated now.

“There’s a parts shortage, sir, what with there being so many men injured and needing prosthetics,” Corr said apologetically. “And these aren’t good enough for me to do my job in the front line. As soon as the parts come through, I’ll be back, though.” Ordo knew what Kal’buir would have said then, and he was moved to do the same, but this wasn’t the time or the place. He held back. [...] Ordo wanted to tell him that he understood his loneliness among strangers and his need to be back with his brothers at the front, doing real work. But he could tell him nothing.

[Ordo] wanted to ask one of [the new troopers] to lift his helmet so he could look him in the eye and see if he was exactly like his Null and commando brothers, but it was demeaning, and it was no longer his business. If he connected to these new clones in any way, he’d end up like Kal’buir, feeling that each man was his personal responsibility to rescue.

[Etain’s body is brought to Kyrimorut.] Fi wondered who would crack first, and he wasn’t as surprised as he thought he would be when it turned out to be Ordo. He thought the stifled sob was his own for a moment, until he saw Ordo put the back of his gauntlet to his mouth for a count of two, and then recover and stand to attention again.

The general principle of putting an end to Jedi influence in the galaxy [...] was always based on anonymous Jedi, or at least Jedi who were disliked. But faced with poor little Scout, the venerable Kina Ha, and a fairly pleasant man they knew well, putting an end to anything became brutally hard. That didn’t mean Ordo wouldn’t do it, of course. He just wasn’t sure how badly he might feel about it afterward.

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He patted Ordo’s hand, which was still gripping the throttle lever. “I name this ship… okay, any ideas?” Ordo paused, staring ahead. “Aay’han.” “Okay… Aay’han it is.” It was a telling choice: there was no Basic translation of the word, because it was a peculiarly Mandalorian concept. Aay’han was that peaceful, perfect moment surrounded by family and friends and remembering dead loved ones, missing them to the point of pain, a state of mind that bittersweet could hardly begin to cover. It was about the intensity of love.

Republic Commando: True Colors

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“Free men make their own decisions, Ordo. Just remember that. Even if it upsets us, both of them are doing what they want to do, not what someone made them do.” Free men also faced up to the consequences of their actions. I could have done this all differently. I didn’t. He’d sit Kad down and explain as best he could to a toddler that his daddy wanted to come home, but Uncle Ordo, Ba’vodu Ord’ika, had got things all wrong and had to leave him behind. If Kad was going to feel let down by anyone, it wouldn’t be his buir.

Imperial Commando: 501st

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Ordo didn’t join in [with the joking]. He was the serious brother, constantly on duty and checking every detail. Besany was very much like him. Ny suspected that their children were going to be beautiful but unsmiling perfectionists who had to have jokes explained to them.

Imperial Commando: 501st