THE MANY DEATHS OF OCHI OF BESTOON
Ochi of Bestoon twirled his knife in his hands as he mulled over the job he had just been offered.
“A Jedi, huh? That’s a new one.”
The man sitting across from him interlaced his fingers, his face mostly hidden by the hood of his black cloak. “I trust that you are capable enough, Ochi of Bestoon. Your reputation as the one of the best the Assassin’s Guild has to offer precedes you.”
Ochi snorted. “Heh. Don’t let any of my buddies hear you say that. They already hold plenty of grudges against me.” He leaned back in his seat, still twirling his knife. As one of the top assassins in the Guild, on his way to joining the Elite Circle itself, he had been given all sorts of jobs from clients who were willing to pay the credits. From crime lords to nobles to even members of the Galactic Senate, he had killed all kinds. But a Jedi… a Jedi was something else. He hadn’t heard of anyone in the Guild killing a Jedi, not even those in the Elite Circle. It wasn’t like they had much reason to; they were just magic-using monks, weren’t they?
After a moment, Ochi asked the potential client, “What’s so special about this Jedi that you want him dead?”
“It’s not so much the identity of the Jedi that is important,” the man replied. “It’s the impact that his murder will bring.”
“Ah.” Ochi slowly nodded. “I get it. You want to show the galaxy that these wizards aren’t strong as they make themselves out to be.”
Beneath the rim of his hood, a smile crept onto the man’s face. “Something like that.”
“Good enough for me.” Ochi stabbed the middle of the table with his knife. “I’ve been itching for a challenge for a while now. Who knows, this job might be what gets me into the Elite Circle!”
“I certainly hope it will be beneficial for both of us,” the man said. “Now then, shall we discuss the matter of payment?”
Ochi narrowed his eyes as he studied the man, trying to figure out what kind of wealth he head. “Fifty thousand up front, another fifty after the job is done. And this is non-negoti—”
Before he could finish, the man slid across the right amount of credits across the table. Ochi’s eyes widened and he counted them all to make sure, as well as ensure that they were legit. He then focused his shocked gaze on the hooded man. “How did you get this kind of…?”
“Is my income that much of a concern to you?” the man asked.
Something about his tone dissuaded Ochi from prying and he tried to play it off casually as he scooped up the credits. “Just curious,” he muttered. “So, where can I find this Jedi?”
The man slid a datapad across the table. “Everything you need to know is on here. The file will delete itself once it has been viewed. This is a need-to-know assignment, as I’m sure you’ll understand.”
“Oh, I get it,” Ochi said as he picked up the device. “Trust me, I’ve been at this job for many years.”
The man smiled again, in a manner that Ochi found somewhat ominous. “And for many years to come, let us hope.”
* * *
The information on the datapad had led Ochi to a icy world in the Outer Rim Territories known as Mygeeto. He had heard of the planet before and had even visited once to assassinate a rogue officer of the InterGalactic Banking Clan. The Jedi in question was a Muun by the name of Marhu Koss, who had gone into self-imposed exile on the planet following a disagreement with the Jedi Council, even going so far as to undertake the Barash Vow, cutting himself off from the known galaxy.
This perhaps explained why his client had selected Koss as a target. Because he was already in exile, his death would not immediately come to the attention of the Jedi Order but when it did, they would know that there was someone out there capable of killing Jedi. Ochi imagined his client would then follow up with more Jedi targets that would become increasingly more prominent, causing the rest of the Order to worry for their own safety. If he was right, then it was quite the cruel strategy, one which he approved.
If this doesn’t get me into the Elite Circle, he said to himself, then nothing will please those losers!
Stepping off his transport, Ochi took a moment to survey his surroundings through the enhanced lenses of his mask. The surface of Mygeeto was characterized by jagged crystals jutting from out of the ground. Most of it was difficult to land a ship on, let alone tread safely across; he was fortunate enough to find a patch of solid ground that was large enough for his blocky WTK transport to land on, before it narrowed into a small strip that led directly to the abandoned ruins of some sort of tower. The tower looked much too primitive to have been built by the Muun settlers of Mygeeto and was instead likely made by the native Lurmen.
Once he made sure he had all of his tools and weapons on hand, Ochi trekked down the narrow strip of land, sidestepping crystals that were sharp enough to impale him. As he reached the tower, he switched on the infrared sensors of his mask and was able to detect a heat signature radiating from within the ancient structure. Whether it was the Jedi or not, there was definitely someone inside.
He stepped closer before stopping. He realized that there wasn’t just one heat signature that his sensors were reading… but two.
Was this a setup? Had the man lied to him, or simply been misinformed?
Scowling to himself, Ochi made a mental note to double his asking price before stepping into the tower. Inside, the stairs leading up to the top of the tower were collapsed, meaning it would be impossible to climb to the top. As far as he knew, Muuns weren’t capable of flying, even with the Force, which meant that the Jedi had to be here on the ground floor.
Pushing his way through rubble, Ochi made sure to stick to the shadows as well as keep his heat sensors running. There was at least one heat signature straight ahead, and from all appearances it was stationary, indicating that the Jedi had not moved. Most likely he was in some sort of meditative trance, meaning he would be open to any attack that came.
“Not much of a challenge,” Ochi muttered to himself. He now really hoped that his client would give him another target after this. He looked around for any sign of the second heat signature but he had lost track of it. Nothing to the left or right of him, and not even when he looked back the way he had came.
Then, he remembered the collapsed staircase… and looked up.
The snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting was his only warning as the furred creature dropped down on top of him. Quickly stepping to the side, Ochi unsheathed his knife and prepared to attack only to have to quickly dodge the swinging blue blade.
“What have you done?” the Jedi cried, jumping around on his legs. “What have you done?”
In between dodging his swings, Ochi was able to identify the Jedi as a Lurmen, a lemuroid species native to Mygeeto. Definitely not a Muun. Again, either the man had been wrong or….
“You will pay for this!” the Lurmen Jedi roared, gripping his lightsaber with his tail and lashing it like a whip. “My master will be avenged!”
Ochi sidestepped to avoid the tail before grabbing it and slashing at it with his knife. The Jedi screamed in agony as blood poured from the gashing wound and his lightsaber dropped to the floor. Ochi moved to pick up the weapon only to be pushed back by an invisible force. Ignoring the blinding pain caused by his severed tail, the Lurmen summoned the lightsaber back to his awaiting hand before lunging at Ochi. The blue blade was centimeters away from stabbing him in the head when Ochi managed to shift his position and thrust his dagger out, stabbing the Jedi straight through the chest.
The lightsaber fell again from the Lurmen’s grip, and this time he did not pick it back up. Ochi let his lifeless body fall to the floor before wiping the blood clean from his knife’s blade.
Not what I expected for my first Jedi kill, but enjoyable enough.
Picking up the discarded lightsaber, Ochi turned back in the direction he had been headed and pressed on, moving closer towards the remaining heat signature. Before long, he had reached the center room of the tower and he was standing face to face with his target.
Or at least, what he thought was his target. There was indeed a Muun standing in front of him… but there was also a second one lying dead on the floor. The dead one was dressed in the brown robes of a Jedi Master, whereas the one above it was dressed in a black cloak, not unlike the one his client had worn. A transpirator mask covered the lower half of his pale gray face and a pair of yellow burning eyes glared at Ochi from beyond the shadows.
Before Ochi could formulate any words, the Muun standing over the dead one spoke a single word. “Impressive.”
He then raised a hand and as if pulling on an invisible string drew Ochi towards him. The last thing Ochi of Bestoon saw was the scarlet glare of a lightsaber igniting before impaling him straight through the abdomen.
* * *
“You took a great risk in undertaking this operation.”
“Yes, Master. But it was worth it in the end, was it not?”
Darth Plagueis did not respond to his apprentice as he stared at the orange-skinned humanoid floating in the bacta tank before him. The Bestoonian was close to death but still clinging onto life… just as Venamis had before Plagueis had let him perish for good.
Darth Sidious continued speaking, adopting a casual tone as if he were discussing the weather. “From what I hear, the Jedi are greatly saddened by the death of Master Koss. They had worried for the mental state of his young Padawan, but never once did they suspect he would go so far as to murder his master for abandoning him.”
Plagueis turned to Sidious, yellow eyes blazing from behind his transpirator mask. “It is fortunate that such a convincing narrative was weaved, Sidious. But do you realize how close you were to exposing us to the Jedi Order?”
Sidious stared back at him, feigning humility. “Yes, Master. But, as I recall, it was you who killed Master Koss.”
“Only because he had already come closer than I would have liked to uncovering even a whiff of our operations. Mygeeto is a world not visited by many non-Muuns, let alone a Jedi. Fortunately his self-imposed exile provided a decent cover… but then you had to lead his Padawan to discover his dead body.”
“Only so that Ochi would have a Jedi to kill. How else would he have proved his worth?”
“What worth? We already have the Sun Guard to do our bidding, and I doubt he will be a stronger candidate for our experiments than Venamis.”
Sidious glanced at the bacta tube. “But we’ve lost Venamis. Surely any subject is better than none.”
Plagueis shook his head. “I have already learned what I needed to from Venamis. I fail to see how this creature will provide me with different results.”
With a heavy sigh, Plagueis turned away from the bacta tank and began to walk away, stopping only to look over his shoulder at Sidious.
“He will survive, and then you can use him as you wish. But be wise not to utilize him as… recklessly as you have today, Sidious.”
“Oh, I understand, Master.” Sidious turned back to Ochi’s floating form, smiling to himself. “I understand completely.”
* * *
Ochi of Bestoon twirled his knife in his hands only to stop himself. It was an old habit, one that he told himself he would quit.
The Equani had a term called “ceno-ka,” which was a sensation that one was in some sort of temporal loop. That events were repeating themselves somehow. That was how Ochi felt now, sitting in the same tavern on Ord Talavos as a cloaked man sat in front of him.
This human was different from the one Ochi had met with twenty years ago. At the very least, this one had a white beard, which the other one very well could have grown in the intervening years. But this man had a much deeper voice, one that reverberated in Ochi’s head as he spoke.
“I understand you have a reputation for killing Jedi, Ochi of Bestoon.”
Ochi shrugged, trying to appear casual. “You could say that,” he murmured. He did not mention the fact that it wasn’t much of a reputation; the Lurmen Padawan he had killed on Mygeeto had hardly been a challenge, and the other Jedi he had come across were no more trained than newly minted Knights. He had yet to kill an actual Jedi Master, which would be the only thing that would impress his peers and give him entry into the Elite Circle.
“As you know,” the deep-voiced man went on, “there is a war going on and the Jedi are now serving on the frontlines for the first time in a thousand years.”
“So there’s more Jedi for the picking.” Ochi tilted his head. “Let me guess, you’re with the Separatists.”
The man’s lips twitched into a smile beneath his hood. “You could say that,” he echoed the assassin’s words.
“Hey, I’m not judging. Some of my buddies have already gotten contracts to take out some Jedi; I’m gonna need to work hard to keep up.”
“Then you will be pleased to know that the target I have for you is a member of the Jedi High Council.”
Ochi tried to keep the excitement from showing on his face. That would be a big catch and would surely cinch him a spot in the Elite Circle. “Say no more. Just give me the details and the down payment and I’ll be on my way.”
Just like before, the man slid a datapad across the table. Just like before, he paid Ochi the agreed upon price. And just like before, Ochi was on his way to kill a Jedi.
* * *
“Not today, Sithspawn!”
Those were the last words Ochi had remembered hearing before he had died at the blade of Mace Windu. At least, he was pretty sure he was dead. It didn’t cross his mind that he wouldn’t be thinking anything at all if he were dead.
At some point, he opened his eyes and was met with the sting of bacta. Through the water, he could make out the shape of a man in a dark cloak standing in front of him. He remembered the man from before, from that first meeting on Ord Talavos nearly two decades ago. What was he doing here? What did his presence mean? Who even was he?
He felt a searing pain in his mind and everything went dark again.
* * *
Ochi of Bestoon kept his knife sheathed in its holster. He did not dare touch it this time.
He had finally made it. It had taken far too many years for his liking, but he had finally made it. The Guild had accepted him into the Elite Circle; he had finally gotten the recognition he rightfully deserved.
He no longer needed to wait for clients to offer him work. He would come to them rather than the other way around. Besides, the price he now charged would be too high for even the wealthiest man in the galaxy to pay.
Of course, that had not been enough to deter a lowly industrialist from Scipio to seek him out, braving the dangerous swamps of Ord Talavos in order to speak with his associate and hire him for a job. Ochi had only accepted the job because of who the target was. It was no longer Jedi he would be going after, not after they had already been driven to the edge of extinction.
It was a Sith Lord.
Ochi had long been fascinated with the Sith, going so far as to track down and collect relics belonging to the ancient dark order. When he had been accepted into the Elite Circle, he had decided to fashion a new set of armor that emulated the Sith warriors of old. The Jedi had fallen and the Sith now ruled the galaxy once more. It was only fitting that he would wear the face of those who had won in order to strike fear in those that had lost.
And, once he had killed Darth Vader, he would perhaps attract the attention of the one who taught him. After all, there had to be two Sith, and Vader did not strike him as the Master. In fact, Ochi had a pretty good idea of who was.
Yes, the Dark Lord of the Sith would finally recognize him for his talents, and he would be so much more than a mere assassin.
As his ship exited hyperspace and bore down on the moon of the Heinsnake Cult, Ochi of Bestoon pressed forward, heading straight for his destiny.
* * *
Ochi of Bestoon screamed as he came to life for the second time.
He collapsed onto the floor, laying naked in a puddle of bacta water. A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see the man in the dark cloak standing there once more.
“You,” he croaked. “It’s you. It’s always you.”
“Indeed,” Darth Sidious answered him, yellow eyes glowing from the darkness of his hood. “I must say, you have exceeded my expectations, Ochi of Bestoon.”
“What….” Ochi looked down at his body, looking as new and fresh as if he had just been born again. “What have you done…?”
“I have accomplished what few have done before me: I have brought you back to life.”
Ochi stared up at him in utter disbelief. Darth Sidious responded to him by cackling.
“With the knowledge of Darth Andeddu and the Tedryn Holocron, I was able to save your essence from falling into Chaos and transfer it into a newly made clone body. While my master was only able to save you from death, I was able to gift you a new lease on life.”
Ochi continued to gawk at the Dark Lord, barely able to comprehend the words he was hearing. “But… why? Why me?”
Sidious smiled, although it was hardly pleasant. “I became aware of your fascination with Sith artifacts when you happened to acquire a particular relic I had been searching for. Naturally, this meant that we needed to keep a close eye on you lest you prove a hindrance to our plans. My master had suggested that I simply kill you, but after learning about your skills as an assassin, I decided that there was perhaps a… different opportunity for you.”
“Okay, fine.” Ochi spat out some of the bacta water that had gotten into his mouth as he laid in the puddle. “But why use me to see if you could bring back the dead?”
Sidious shrugged. “Convenience, really. It’s not like anyone would have missed you if I had failed to save you from death.”
Ochi scowled, and under normal circumstances he would have lashed out at this kind of comment. But he was too weak to move, and he knew better than to try to fight a Dark Lord. He had already learned his lesson with Vader.
“So now what?” he said instead. “What happens to me now?”
The facade of mirth faded from the Dark Lord’s face and tone as he spoke coldly to the assassin. “You are now indebted to my service. From here on out, you shall do as I say and carry out my will.”
“What about the Assassin’s Guild?” Ochi asked, immediately regretting it as he realized how dumb of a question it was.
“As far as the Guild is concerned, you are dead,” Sidious said plainly. “Instead, you will answer to me, and only me.”
Ochi knew there was no point in arguing. He owed his life to this man and his continued existence was no doubt only ensured if he agreed to the Dark Lord’s terms. Thus, all he could do was manage a nod as he laid their in the puddle of bacta.
“As you wish, my lord.”
Sidious grinned. “Excellent. I will have you dressed and equipped; I already have a job for you.”
* * *
Of course, it was never just one job.
Over the next twenty years, Ochi of Bestoon carried out the Emperor’s will as he had pledged, eliminating every last target he was given. Some of them were Jedi, some of them were not, ranging from renegade politicians and rogue Imperial officers. None of them were a challenge and brought little satisfaction to him. But then, his satisfaction wasn’t really the point, was it?
For two decades it was like this, with little change. Then, Endor happened.
He had felt it from halfway across the galaxy, like a knife piercing through his skull. Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith and Emperor of the galaxy, was dead. As he perished, he had unleashed a scream heard across the cosmos, bringing with it a single command that only Ochi could hear.
“AVENGE ME.”
Ochi had collapsed at the controls of his transport, fading into unconsciousness. When he awakened, he had found himself on board a Super Star Destroyer somewhere in the depths of a remote nebula. Standing in front of him was a man in a white officer’s tunic with a scarlet cape draping from his shoulders. A welcoming smile graced the features of the man’s pale face.
“Welcome, Ochi of Bestoon, to the Ravager.”
Ochi shook his head, trying to figure out what was going on. “What’s going on? Who are you?”
“I am Admiral Gallius Rax,” the man answered. “Counselor to the Empire and protege of the Emperor himself.”
“The Emperor,” Ochi murmured. “He’s… he’s gone. I heard him—”
“Yes,” Rax said solemnly. “I heard him as well. But not to worry; we shall avenge him.”
Ochi stared at the admiral, eying him warily. “How did you find me?”
“I didn’t. You found us.” Rax smiled at Ochi’s visible confusion. “Your ship appeared on our radars and we brought you in. Normally we would have destroyed any intruding crafts, but I recognized your ship.”
“But… I don’t remember entering any coordinates. I don’t even know where this place is!”
“The will of the Emperor works in mysterious ways,” Rax said cryptically. “Now then, there is much work to be done. If you will follow me.”
Left without any other choice, Ochi followed the Counselor, resigning himself once more to the never-ending nightmare.
* * *
Another twenty years had gone by in a blur and yet he was still stuck at square one.
The Emperor was long dead. Rax was long gone. And yet still, they wanted him to do their work. Even in death, the Dark Lord of the Sith still controlled him.
They had sent him after a girl and her parents. He wasn’t sure what they wanted them for, although he had a few ideas. He had been close to finding them, but the Jedi Skywalker and his friend had foiled him at every turn. Now he had lost the girl and he had killed the parents in a fit of rage. He had followed the only lead he had to Pasaana but failed to find the girl and instead succumbed to the treacherous sands.
And yet… he lived.
Just as before, he had died and been reborn. He had long lost count of how many lives he had lived.
He realized now that they would never let him die. He would never be free from this nightmare. From the minute he had set foot on frigid Mygeeto, he had sealed his damned fate.
He had long since given up on trying to do anything about it. There was nothing he could do but do as he was told and fulfill the will of the Emperor.
And so, he sat at the controls of his ship and twirled his knife in his hand.
It was all he had to keep himself sane.
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