The Legend of Ivan (26 page)

The mercenary fell to the ground as Ivan released him and walked a few paces away. Cradling the injured wrist, Grey clamored to his feet, trying to let his seething rage cut through the agony echoing everywhere in his body.

Ivan stood, arms folded and gripping the flechette pistol Grey dropped some time earlier. The expression on his face was stern, unyielding. Scrapes, gashes, and punctures stood out everywhere on his body, but Ivan didn't appear the slightest bit fatigued or weakened by the fight.

Grey on the other hand was all but wrecked. The armor was torn from both of his legs, and his feet bled with minor cuts sustained from only seconds of moving on the rough ground. His head, concussed and still ringing from multiple explosions, muddled through a daze mixed with powerful stimulant. He couldn't stand upright due to the broken ribs, and small bits of bone poked through the wrist Ivan destroyed.

Ivan shouted, cutting through the haze of Grey's mind and the whine of his ears. "You are finished. Stop this now."

Never in his life had Traverian Grey been defeated. Never had he failed, and never had he given up. Twisting his face into a snarl, completely unaware of where he was standing and where the bombs were, he punched another detonator.

******

As the aging man told his story, I noted each injury from the fight with the scars and missing pieces of his body. I believed it was still madness, but I began to understand why Grey had no choice but to revere, perhaps even worship the man who had broken him so easily.

"Rather than bleed to death after my arm and legs were shredded by the one that went off beneath me, I dragged myself over to my rifle." He smirked. "It worked well enough to cauterize the wounds."

"And Ivan was gone?" I asked, stifling a grimace.

"There was enough stim left to keep me part-way conscious, and the vitals monitoring of the chest piece, thank the stars it didn't break, kept enough of me alive and out of shock. After the last one went off, I saw him walk away, chuck aside my gun, get in his ship, and blast on out." Grey wheeled himself over to the basin. "Since you chatted with Lorric, I'm sure you pretty much know the rest." He splashed water on his face.

I nodded.

"Well there you have it then." The former mercenary ran a hand through thinning hair. "The downfall of the great Traverian Grey, laid out nice and neat for you. Of course, you probably aren't really that interested in any of my stories. You and your employers are still looking to find out just how he managed to destroy that planet."

The man wagged a finger at me. "Ah yes, a few weapons he carried and such, but I also heard it somewhere else. When I was digging out where to find him, I noticed it was the codename of the project down on Atropos Garden."

Unbidden, a blip of Dana's memory flashed forward at the mention of the name associated with the ill-fated world. Indeed, the Olga title was found dotting several tiny memories.

"Could the project have been his ship?" I asked. "Other weaponry and devices?" I remembered the cannon from Hunter's End, reluctant to consider it new technology.

"Well," Grey rubbed his chin. "I may not have your remarkable processing power and blasted infinite memory, but I've dragged together a few theories over the years." I smirked at him, and he laughed. "Don't get me wrong; I love my retirement, but it doesn't do much but provide me with far too much time to think. I may have left my past behind, but I certainly haven't forgotten it."

I motioned for him to continue.

"The project being his about ship and weapons research was my thought. Y'see, I still heard rumblings of what Ivan was up to over the years, and the kind of stuff he managed in that one stinking ship..." He snapped his fingers. "Like the cruiser over Orkanis, uh, the prison."

"I'm familiar," I said.

"Caldonis, New Prague? I wasn't there, but I heard he wiped out half a battalion by himself! It was a while ago, but the Garden
was
up and running back then. And the slaver colony? I heard he blew that place sky-high."

Frowning, I replied, "I haven't been able to confirm his involvement in the battles, and I'm not familiar with any slave colonies."

Grey held up a finger, ignoring my statement. "I think he was working for the government all along as some kind of espionage agent."

I didn't tell him I thought his notion was somewhat absurd.

"Think about it. The Garden was one of the last pieces of anything not touched by Soma, Keritas, Daedra, or any of those other giants. He's probably the best pilot in the galaxy, so they fixed him up with OLGA, the ship. They've been upgrading it ever since, and they've been giving him little toys to work with for when he can't be in the air."

"Finally," he continued, "they mashed in something too big, screwed something up, and then bad things happened. He was telling me the truth about not knowing anything because he was just the jockey. The ship was the real deal, and whatever they put in it is probably what your employer wants." He settled back into his chair as he finished speaking. I somehow gained the feeling he'd been waiting to tell someone this theory for a long time.

The former mercenary perked up again. "I still never heard what actually happened, other than the world itself was destroyed. I mean, did he vaporize it? Did it actually explode?"

Grey rested his remaining hand on his stomach. "Anything else you want to ask me? You have me pining for the old days, that's for sure. I could tell you some pretty amazing stories."

Smiling, I replied. "I'm sure you could, but I need to be on my way soon." He gave a sigh. "First, I need to ask if you have any idea where Ivan might have gone. Second, I've never heard anything about involvement with any slave activity, aside from in his interaction with Voux Hanatar."

He tapped a finger against his lips. "You have to ask yourself: in a galaxy where his name is feared, where could Ivan hide?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "The bounty might have privatized, thanks to Lorric and me, but I'd wager it's still out there. No one's had any luck finding him since me, but then fly in the Archivists to dig him out."

I stared at him with a blank look. "Would you please arrive at your point?"

"Oh fine," he said. "Obviously he's hiding, but he's not exactly the most inconspicuous individual. Of all the things he's done, there are only a couple of stories where he's helped someone out. I'm pretty sure the slaver one is true. Whoever was left, whoever he saved from that place... I'd bet you anything he's hiding with them."

"Interesting," I said, genuinely considering the possibility.

Grey wheeled himself over. "That's all I have for ya, so good luck in the rest of your search. I'm sure you want to be getting on your way." He held out his good hand.

We shook, and I stood up. Donning my cloak and hat, I turned to the exit. "Enjoy your retirement," I said, opening the door and stepping out.

Linus Newson remained waiting outside, a frown upon his face. "You were in there for quite a while, friend. What were you and Deacon Grey talkin' about?"

"Business." I glanced around, noticing several people peering out of their doors and windows, some standing in the streets and openly staring. It seemed the whole village was interested in what was going on.

The frown on my escort's face deepened. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but you're kinda causin' a bit of distress around town. You're not plannin' on stayin' are ya?"

I smiled. "No, and I likely won't come back." He brightened up a bit as I considered the astronomically remote chances of my return.

"Ah, good then. Can I show you back to your vehicle?"

I gave a nod.

The two of us passed through the ramshackle village once again, no more impressive the second time around. I ignored the stares of the denizens and the uncivilized squalor of their general existence. Already I was deep within contemplation of what to do next.

Archivist Sid

Assignment:

Seeking information regarding the truth and whereabouts of Ivan.

Location:

Belgriad

Report:

Spoke with Traverian Grey, last known person to encounter Ivan.

Probability
:

99%

Summary:

Aging, retired, and crippled Grey gave details of final encounter. Ivan's abilities [space/ground combat] seem peerless. Possible lead on how to find him [former slaves]; need to research.

Chapter 11: Mercury Strikes

"Amazing..." Marqyni Avieli put a hand over his chest, taking a deep breath as I finished speaking. "I'd not believe a word of it if it weren't coming from you, my dear Sid."

I returned to Dei Lucrii and my favorite library because I became stuck. Nothing I had heard or seen aside from one source lent any information toward Ivan being involved with slavery. The only connection, providing me with the kernel of certainty necessary for pursuit, was the former crime lord Hanatar.

Unfortunately, I had to spend over an hour summarizing everything I'd learned for Marqyni before I could pursue my line of inquiry. His exuberance, normally endearing, became the smallest bit exasperating.

"The slavery issue as a reason for Ivan's betrayal of Hanatar was little more than a footnote in the conversation. Grey's mention of a slaver colony has to be connected somehow."

Marqyni put on a big smile. "My dear Sid... I never doubted you for a second."

"Focus, please," I replied with a frown. "I need to depart as soon as there is something to pursue."

He held up his hands. "Very well! Very well. You come again, blazing through my house of knowledge spinning whirlwind tales. My pitiful little brain is boggling, grinding in such circles I can hardly keep from falling over..." He tailed off, noting the scowl on my face. "Oh, fine. What can I help you with?"

"Have
you
ever heard any connection to Ivan and the slave trade?"

The librarian shook his head. "Ivan is a cultural boogeyman used to frighten children. Though many tales present him in a favorable light, as a vanquisher, few express him with magnanimity." He waved a hand. "Oh, there are some about rescued children, clergy or some such, perhaps its slaves in others, but otherwise no. In fact, the only connection I've
ever
heard to the forced labor trade was your own mention of Hanatar's fall as a product of Ivan's revenge. Obviously, the murder of the slave trader in Hanatar's home, ah... who was it?"

"Barian Dreger," I replied.

"Yes, Dreger." He rubbed his chin. "You're clearly correct; it must have some connection to what Grey mentioned." He gave a laugh. "I still can't believe you spoke to both Traverian Grey and Voux Hanatar. How by the tides of Old Earth did you manage such a thing?"

I raised an eyebrow.

Marqyni pouted. "Oh, fine. Be all mysterious. If you're not going to humor me even in the slightest, what
can
I do for you?"

"I need both of us to dig through as much as we can to find... something, anything," I replied. "I know it's ambiguous, but there must be some news report of Dreger's arrest. Perhaps Ivan tipped the authorities to a group of released captives. There's nothing the GSA would like more than the good press of breaking apart a slaver colony."

I furrowed my brow. "Or, maybe some of the GSA reports are public record now that Hanatar is in prison for life. Or... there was also the slave container Dreger discarded when he was captured. It was near to an asteroid field. The colony could have been nearby: not a terrible place to hide something of that nature. If we can find any survivors from Dreger's slave trade, they would have been the most likely candidates for Ivan to approach for help."

The librarian listened with a thoughtful expression. "Let's get started then. You wish to be inside no more than an hour, correct?"

"Yes. You start with public GSA records around the time of Hanatar's arrest; I'll work on news archives."

"Are you certain?" Marqyni frowned. "There's going to be a broader range of subjects there; you might lose a lot of time." He was referring to the Archivist instinct to tangential searching.

I waved a hand. "I can still dig through them faster than you can, no offense." I smiled.

He rolled his eyes. "Very well, I'll set you up here in my office and use one of the terminals out on the floor myself."

"Good," I replied. "Let's get started."

******

Dana's improved programming and architecture helped. Using it made me nervous, as I had no idea what else her programming and the hidden vestige would have in store for me. I still couldn't resist using it.

The result was nothing short of amazing. My mind blazed through hundreds, thousands of files, clippings, news reports. The fall of Hanatar was widely reported; killing a GSA witness in his own home drew not insignificant attention. They mocked him for it, and hardly a mention was made of the victim's name, even less mention of former employment with his alleged killer.