Justin Kemppainen - The Legend of Ivan

Listening to his long speech, I caught much of his former arrogance still intact. It seemed the many years hadn’t yet broken him completely.

“Information, of course,” I said, smiling.

“What if I don’t feel like talking?”

“Then I’ll depart in peace.” I shrugged. “However, considering the special privilege of actually seeing another human—”

Hanatar burst out laughing. “Human? C’mon pal, I wasn’t born yesterday. You’re gonna have to try harder than—”

“My mistake,” I interrupted, raising my hand, “and a poor choice of words, I’ll agree.” He was taunting me; there was no real malice in his assertion, and I’d have wagered my left arm that his normal-appearing flesh hid a few upgrades, assuming they hadn’t been stripped out. However, I hadn’t yet gauged his disposition, and relaxed humility seemed a good starting point. “I am fairly certain you’ve not seen much of anyone from the outside world for, what, seventeen years now?”

He gave a thin smile. “Seventeen from my arrest. Fourteen years of solitary ever since my last amazing failure to escape this wretched place.”

A reaction must have shone on my face, as he chuckled. “Shocked I’d say so? No matter. My network of contacts, lieutenants, stoolies, informants… my entire organization is totally gone now. I have no money, no family, and no friends. It was obvious to everyone, including the prosecutor and the bumpkin of an arresting officer, that I was set-up for the crime that landed me here. Even so, there’s no chance of appeal. No one’s left to help me here, and even if I managed to leave, I’d get torn apart by the thousands of people I did wrong to.”

I listened as he spoke, strong bitterness evident in his tone. I had already known his pool of contacts and organization had dissolved within five years of his arrest. I knew he had nothing left to lose or gain in his life. What surprised me was how he seemed to know and accept it, yet he still retained a sense of will and spirit.

“…I’m gonna die here. I know it, you know it, the warden knows it.” Hanatar finished. “Tell me what you want so I can say no and get back to my luxurious accommodations.”

Tapping my index finger upon the table, I spoke, “Clearly you’ve come to an understanding about your situation.”

“Yeah, I have.” The former criminal rubbed the stubble on his face. “I have nothin’ to gain by speaking to you, except maybe the scorn of the warden and security staff.”

A smile curled at the corner of my mouth. “There’s one advantage.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“An unbiased audience. Someone to tell your story to, as that is what I’m interested in. I’m willing to give you a soapbox for you to lament the entirety of your downfall. I would hear the tale of how your end came about.” My gaze bored into him, seeing the slightest measure of consideration. “You’ve been dying to tell someone new about how you were robbed of life and accomplishment. Someone who can take that message out into the stars.”

There it was: a hunger. Hanatar had spent much of his sentence in solitary confinement, unable to do anything save brood about the end of his career. There was a longing, a bitterness at the edges of his expression. It was one which wanted at the very least to complain to someone willing to listen.

“What’s your angle?” he asked, still suspicious but not denying the desire to speak.

“There are two individuals I’m seeking information on. One or both may have worked for you, and one of them may have been principally responsible for your current situation.”

Hanatar sat bolt upright, an angry scowl etched across his aging features. “You’re talking about that motherless piss-pot, Ivan. You’re looking for him, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

Slinking back in his chair, the prisoner laughed bitterly. “I tell you: build the biggest and most successful business in all of history. Influence the dealings of hundreds of worlds and billions of people. Remove any person who stands in your way no matter how little they can do to you, and still no one remembers you when it’s all gone. But annihilate one tiny little settlement on one tiny little planet?”

“This isn’t about what Ivan did on Atropos Garden,” I said. “This is about, first, the circumstances of your arrest and conviction, as well as if and how Ivan was involved.”

A smirk lay on Hanatar’s face, and he slowly shook his head back and forth. “Involved…” He gave a bitter sneer. “Yeah. He was involved.”

“I won’t say anything stupid, like I didn’t have it coming. I did a lot of bad shit to a lot of people. Still, I’m going to hate that pus-sucking sonofabitch with every fiber of my being until the day I die. He didn’t simply betray me; he hammered every nail into my coffin. No matter what I did, how I tried to get myself out of the trial and this stinking place, Ivan always stopped it. For all the shit he did to me, I think he musta hated me for something.

But to this day I still have no idea why.

Whatever the case was, I hired Ivan; he had good references. People we knew in common said he was a fellow who could get things done. It was a lieutenant of mine, one of my wife’s cousin’s nephews or some shit, who brought him in. Damien Pintz was his name. It was probably about the only smart thing that idiot ever did, but it still turned to shit later on. Anyway, Ivan was strong, fast, and a great pilot; every single contact I knew said he was perfect for any job, so I brought him in.

He was so damn big. I figured him for a grunt, an enforcer who’d do what he was told without the burden of thought or worry. Simple jobs, and he had a nice ship for smuggling escort. You know, the kind with a few nooks and crannies for overflow. It was fast with a few choice weapons. It had a broad’s name.

Again, I thought he was a moron. Hell, his accent was so thick I almost figured he was illiterate. I’d seen him a couple times out of the first few months when he handled some of my smaller business. He was good. Right off the get go, he managed to rough up a few of the more disloyal pricks when they started muscling Damien. He got my attention then, but he kept working and doing a good job.

What finally put him over the top was when, by himself, he saved a huge, profitable shipment for me. He was quiet and respectful, so I brought him in closer. Big mistake.”

****

High up in an office overseeing the work, Voux Hanatar watched through monitors as a brute of a man stepped out of his vessel. Blackened scoring lay across the hull from the most recent job, and Hanatar smirked as one of his lieutenants jogged up.

Even through the grainy image, the relief on Damien’s face was obvious. The lieutenant appeared as though he was about to burst into tears.

“You did it!” Damien spoke, his voice coming nasal-toned through the speakers. “I can’t believe you actually did it! You’re one crazy sumbitch Ivan!” The smallish, greasy man seemed ready to leap into Ivan’s arms, but the large man turned away, examining the damage on his ship.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Ivan, we’ll get it fixed up, good as new. I promise. I promise anything after what you did out there.” He threw a gesture at the cargo ship docked a hundred yards away. Men were milling in and out, pushing grav-lifts carrying valuable cargo.

Ivan continued to examine the burns, running his hand across the hull. “Good, please get her repaired. I hate to see my Olga in such difficult shape.” The letters of the ship’s namesake lay marred, unreadable.

The other man nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah. For sure. I’ll personally see that it gets sorted out. Jeez, after you saved my bacon, I’ll give you whatever you want.” He clapped Ivan on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you really shot down all of those raider ships. When I heard your distress call, I thought you guys were all dead. Then I thought I was be suckin’ space or chucked in a fusion reactor when Hanatar found out I lost his cargo.”