Justin Kemppainen - The Legend of Ivan

Grey’s mouth fell open as the armor, only slightly damaged from the fight, cracked and split apart down the seams. Ivan cast the broken shards aside and loomed over his foe.

Scores of cuts and lacerations dotted Ivan’s arms, legs, and torso. Blood leaked and dripped down the enormous man’s body. Shards of shrapnel poked out of the wounds and dust caked Ivan’s exposed skin, but the man didn’t seem to be at all bothered.

Grey reached down to activate another explosive.

Ivan shot a hand out, seizing Grey’s wrist. He yanked the bounty hunter to his feet, chopping with his other hand. The armor covering Grey’s arm shattered along with the wrist beneath it. This new pain screamed through the stimulant, and the crushed bits of the ballistic armor shook loose and fell away.

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.”

Frowning, I asked, “Do you still believe he was telling the truth? Was he only a witness?”

Grey shrugged. “I think he was involved, but I doubt it was his fault. See, that ship of his, you know its name, right?”

“OLGA,” I said, “but that particular name has appeared often.”

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?”

I shrugged, remembering the glittering mass of disintegration and not feeling it necessary to share.

He laughed. “You’re probably going to have to figure that out, don’t you think?”

“Most likely.”

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?”

“It’s a big galaxy.” I folded my arms. “And most people these days don’t think he exists.”

Grinning, he laughed. “Of course! Of course, but we know better, right? He has to be somewhere.”

I sighed.

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.”