He shook his head. "Not a bit of it. Money, power, guns, the thrill of a good fight..." A wistful expression crossed his face. "Crushing an opponent, dancing with death. There's nothing quite like it." The expression hardened, and he looked at me. "But it creates no lasting happiness, for me or anyone else. Nothing matters but the thought of more, and all the credits, bodies at my feet, and destruction does nothing to fill that need."
"So, by living this way, out here... you keep yourself away from temptation?"
"Not so complicated as that, I'm afraid," he said. "At first, I was simply tired. I'd never lost before at all, and to be crushed so completely. Coping was..."
"Difficult?"
Grey smiled. "To say the least. Either way, once I passed the initial stage of recovery, hiding was my first thought." He looked at me and shrugged. "Yes, I'll admit your notions were not far from the mark."
I motioned for him to continue, not wishing to inhibit further conversation by lording a smug attitude over him.
"Gods, I wanted to get patched up as soon as possible. I had seven more plans of attack in mind, ready to corner Ivan again and gain my redemption, but..."
I finished his statement. "You were afraid."
He sighed. "More than you can imagine. I knew... I knew so deeply, so completely, I couldn't ever match him. Yet I couldn't imagine not trying if I was capable." His expression softened, a helpless, almost fearful appearance seeming laughable coming from someone with such a fierce reputation. "I'd worked with him. Saw how he fought, calculated everything, and still I never stood a chance."
Grey lapsed into silence for a moment, lost in consideration. He looked up at me. "I knew pursuing the failed conquest would become my only choice for redemption. If I had myself put back together, the obsession would have driven me back to him, back to my final end."
"That..." he gave a bitter laugh, "and I couldn't face the thought of the galaxy knowing about my coward's defeat. I was beaten, broken... but alive. The moment I dropped a stack of currency upon the desk of the best prosthetics surgeon, everyone would know that Traverian Grey was yet living... and an appalling failure. Oh I told myself so often that I didn't care what others thought, but I was a bit of a slave to my reputation, I'll admit that much."
"Of course," he continued, "not many people knew I was even there besides a few corporate bidders and our apparent friend-in-common Lorric."
I said, "True, most of my research suggested you simply vanished into hiding, retirement, or an early grave. The only relation I found between you and Ivan was a story passed down from a drunken buffoon."
Grey cocked his head. "Was that...?" He closed his eyes. "It couldn't have been Hunter's End? You heard about that?"
I gave a nod.
My companion burst out laughing, "I can't believe anyone remembers that... A hell of a contract, and I thought Ivan was the craziest son of a bitch I'd ever met." Nostalgia overcame his expression, and he asked me, leaning forward and excited. "Your contact told you Ivan woke up that monster, right?" I nodded, and he laughed harder. "There we are, the damn thing is sleeping and the easiest hundred thousand I could ever imagine, and he starts yelling! I mean, who does that? Honorable combat with a giant lizard? Then the damn thing tries to eat me!"
I chuckled. "It was quite a tale."
"I'm sure you've heard plenty more," he settled back into his chair, "but we're getting off topic here, my apologies."
"Not at all," I smiled. "It's nice to validate especially some of the less believable claims."
He gave a contented sigh. "I'd imagine... Gods, I do miss those days sometimes..." He shook his head. "But after a month in recovery and hiding out, to my own considerable surprise... I actually started to like the quiet life." Grey shrugged. "Oh, every day I'd tell myself it was time to quit hiding and find myself a surgeon, but..."
Strange as it was, it made a measure of sense. I wondered if I'd ever grow weary of flying about the galaxy in search of information, but the idea seemed beyond absurd. A quiet life of sheer boredom would end me as surely as five undisturbed minutes with my good friend Cain.
"I stayed. I relaxed, and there came a time where I got used to being like this. I don't do anything beyond my means, but I still manage to take care of myself just fine." He set his plate upon the cool end of the stove.
"What about the, well... the religious part of this?" I asked. "When did the... movement begin?"
Grey gave a thin smile. "Only about five or so years ago."
Since we'd been developing a mild rapport, and his information seemed genuine, I didn't want to remind him of the complete absurdity I saw in this idiotic faith. I tried to be delicate. "How did you get involved?"
"It just sort of happened. A few folk in the city not far from here joked a bit about some lame-brain preacher out in the country. I still thought about Ivan and our little tiff," he smirked, "every single day. Yes, I considered the very idea of worshipping him a complete pile of shit."
I held my tongue, not wanting to emphasize how much I agreed with his early assessment.
He shrugged. "I listened to the things they said," he looked up at me, a tiny measure of pleading in his expression, "and I compared them to what I knew about Ivan." Grey frowned. "I actually started to see where they were coming from, and I thought it was less stupid the more I heard."
Grey chatted about the beginnings of his transformation into the glorious faith, and his conflicted expression and tone of voice was fascinating. It seemed as though much of him wanted so badly to believe Ivan held some deity-esque standing.
This too made sense to me. How better to cope with a terrible defeat than to consider the opponent wielding divine favor and power? On the other hand, his logic, his knowledge of a flesh and blood, mortal man screamed for credence and never allowed Grey to truly lose himself in belief.
I returned my full attention to Grey, noticing that he was touching upon some of those issues. "...realized long ago that I thought of myself as..." Grey sighed, casting away his gaze, "well, God. Something like it, anyway." He waved that aside. "Nothing I did was beyond self-motivation, but my injury and time with these people has changed all of that. It was very refreshing to find something else to hold in awe."
Nodding, I gestured for him to continue.
"You hear half the things he's done, besides Atropos Garden, and you can't help but wonder if something bigger was watching over him. And he never harmed anyone who didn't have it coming, that's for sure. He didn't even..." he looked down at his missing limbs, trailing off.
Perking up, I asked, "Didn't what?"
He gave a bitter laugh. "It wasn't even him that did this to me. I did it myself."
******
A few traits were held in common between Grey and Lorric, but not many in disposition. Their relative similarity in ability and personality made a confrontation somewhat unlikely if not for their connection in calling and target.
Each man was highly skilled at all avenues of fugitive recovery. Where Grey's obsessive personality allowed for a near peerless aptitude with weapons, piloting, demolitions, and other endeavors, Lorric's calm attitude and careful analysis provided situations where the inferior skill could triumph. With their personalities both the same and opposite, their confrontation was a perplexing point to me.
Each man diverged from normal attitudes by at least a partial necessity. Pressure from comrades drove Lorric toward risky behavior, and being horribly outnumbered caused Grey to calculate and plan. Though trying to be patient and wait, I wondered if Grey attempted his usual aggressive aptitude or caution when he confronted Ivan. I further wondered if it would have mattered.
Regardless, it went without question that Traverian Grey could manage a successful ambush. However, even the man himself expressed surprise at the ease with which his foes were crushed.
"Sure, I set up a few surprises, but the tip was hot, and there wasn't exactly a lot of prep-time," Grey said with a shrug. "Even so, the moment I buzzed out o
f the moon's shadow and shot down Lorric's bird, not a single thing went wrong for me. Well, until later anyway. Ivan really was passing through the system, but the tip I gave Lorric was quite a few days early."
I nodded, remembering the story of a long hike punctuated by Lorric's terrible injury and the loss of his remaining companions.
"I used the most dishonorable means, but all that mattered was getting the job done. I didn't have Lorric's flimsy code or even a tiny sense of honor or remorse. Since money hadn't been an issue in years, I never killed anyone for a bigger share, but I would have if it struck me as a good idea." Grey rubbed his eyes. "It was me who contacted Ivan and implored him, based upon our past dealings, to come there. I told him I could help him out." He gave a sad chuckle. "I said I'd do it for old time's sake."
Ivan agreed to the meeting, seemingly without hesitation. As Lorric and his ragtag band of survivors trudged across the surface of the half-barren world, Ivan's vessel pierced the atmosphere and settled down to Grey's beacon.
Staring at Ivan's lightly confused features through the scope of a high-powered energy rifle, curiosity and perhaps the tiniest amount of professional courtesy had overridden Grey's desire for a quick and easy fight. Taken alive remained the objective. A limbless torso was easy enough to cart back, but Grey had doubted Ivan would be in much of a talking mood under those circumstances.
Besides; just in case, Grey had laced the area with mines and other explosives ready to be triggered at the touch of a button.
******
"You're certain you weren't followed?" Traverian Grey called out to Ivan as he approached the small campsite. Over his shoulder, he slung the potent energy weapon which would later kill the remaining hunters and cripple Lorric. Grey wore his usual black shell of ballistic armor, visor up and trying to appear as non-threatening as possible in spite of the weapons strapped to his body.
The slightest flicker of doubt crossed Ivan's face. Grey briefly wondered if the enormous man suspected anything before Ivan burst out with a wide grin. "Mister Grey! My good and dear friend. It has been too long, no?" Laughing, he charged forward and nearly crushed his old friend in an embrace.
"You weren't followed?" Grey repeated, keeping in place the ruse of why he wasn't present at the campsite.
"Pah!" Ivan shook his head. "Always about business with you, isn't it? Here we are, two comrades long reunited after so many battles, and you stand there worrying like an old woman!" He extended a hand.
Grey grasped it and shook. "Good to see you again, Ivan. I take it you're well."
Ivan gave an exaggerated shrug. "As well as can be, I will say, with half the universe nipping at my heels." The man grinned again, but Grey could see weariness tugging at Ivan's features. There was something else, as well, that Grey saw but couldn't recognize. Aside from the exhaustion of being hunted and hounded, sorrow bordering on despair lay deep within Ivan's eyes.
"Even so," Ivan nodded, "I am very glad you contacted me."
"What did you do?"
Ivan clasped his hands together. "Nothing."
Frowning, Grey asked, "Why the bounty, then?"
"They believe I did something, or that I know something." Ivan sighed, pausing.
"Atropos Garden," Grey said. "Was it you?"
The large man shook his head, and Grey finally caught a glimpse of the heavy sorrow as it briefly flickered onto Ivan's face. "No. It was not."
"Then what happened?"
Ivan gave a sad chuckle. "The planet was destroyed."
"The whole thing?" Narrowing his eyes, Grey asked, "How?"
"I do not have the slightest idea."
The bounty hunter folded his arms, bothered by the admission. It wasn't because he thought Ivan was lying; Grey could hear the truth of it in the large man's voice. Nor was the situation troubling due to the people who wanted to interrogate and rip every tiny thought from Ivan's mind in a desperate attempt to discover how one could obliterate a world. Regardless of results, Grey's money would be paid, wasted by the corporations who would gain nothing from Ivan.
What disturbed Grey was that suddenly Ivan seemed like less of a conquest. The huge man would be locked in a box for the remainder of his natural life, pumped full of narcotics and answering the endless barrage of questions. The information of Ivan having nothing to do with the incident, only a mere witness, would never leak out of the top tiers of the cooperating corporations. As far as the galaxy would be concerned, Traverian Grey would have captured the legend who crushed a planet with his bare hands.
Even still, the person Grey cared about the most was himself, and he felt as though his impending victory had been cheapened.
"I am sorry I cannot satisfy your curiosity, my friend," Ivan said, noting the frown and silent contemplation his comrade lapsed into. "We should be going, however. I have had a few pesky flies buzzing near to my tail of late. They have this nasty habit of swarming when I stop to rest."
Grey waved a hand. "They're all dead."
"You swatted them, eh?" Ivan nodded, frowning without a trace of surprise. "I thought as much upon seeing the wreckage in atmosphere and smoking craters upon the ground. Were their deaths truly necessary?"
The bounty hunter didn't reply, too wrapped in his disappointment and contemplation. Is the mountain worth climbing when you find out it's a hill? he thought.
Ivan sighed. "You were always a brutal and ruthless man, Mister Grey. Very cold and all about business." He folded his arms. "However, we have been dancing around an important matter. Tell me, did you kill those men and women to help me, or are you simply eliminating the competition?"
Grey shot a gaze up to Ivan, his contemplation evaporating. Ivan stood a few feet away, entirely non-threatening with a deadpan expression. He spoke again. "Consider this carefully, my old friend. This is not a road you will be able to return from easily."
A chill coursed through Grey, and with it came the slightest mote of doubt that he'd be capable of besting Ivan.
At the thought, exhilaration burst within him, the doubt and uncertainty of success transforming his hill into a mountain once again. His mind flitted over the weapons he carried and the devices buried nearby: traps and snares to ensure success.
"Please tell me my friend." Ivan's face betrayed a sorrow suggesting he already knew the answer. "Are you here to help me?"
Grey did not respond with words. Snapping his visor down, he swung his energy rifle to bear. He fired, aiming for Ivan's leg.
Traverian Grey was fast, and he was an excellent shot. The bounty hunter hardly had a moment to register his energy bolt missing entirely before Ivan sprang forward. In an impossibly fast motion, the enormous man ripped the rifle out of Grey's hands and smashed it into the mercenary's midsection.
Though the ballistic armor took the brunt of the impact, Grey staggered against the force of the blow. Before he could recover, Ivan seized the bounty hunter around the midsection and tore the helmet from his head in a swift motion. Surprised by the unbelievable strength his foe possessed, Grey didn't react until Ivan grabbed and hurled him ten feet.
The bounty hunter crashed to the ground face first, smashing out a couple of teeth and cutting a hole in his lower lip. Dazed, he touched his forehead where a wide gash split.
"You are fighting very slowly, my friend." He heard Ivan behind him. "I know you can do much better."
Spitting blood, Grey snarled and spun around. He snatched two flechette pistols from his belt and fired.
Ivan ducked one burst and blocked the other with the helmet he still held. The razor cloud smashed into it, a few sliding by and slicing into Ivan's body. Seeming not to notice the lacerations on his torso, Ivan hurled the helmet, tiny razors embedded within it, at Grey.
Still shocked at his opponent's speed and strength, Grey managed to roll out of the way, dropping one pistol in the process. He brought the other to bear only to have it disintegrate in his hand as Ivan fired the half-bent energy rifle with frightening accuracy.
There was a pause. Ivan, with the rifle aimed at Grey, took a step forward. "I do not wish to kill you, my old friend. Please do not force me to."
Breathing hard, blood streaming down his face and bits of the molten pistol clinging to his glove, Grey flitted a glance over to the other, fallen weapon. It was nearly within arm's reach.
"Please don't," Ivan repeated.
Grey clenched his teeth. Without his helmet display, he couldn't see the locations of the explosives he placed. Hell with this, he thought, punching a button on his belt as he dove.
A deafening boom filled the air along with smoke and a shower of rock. Three of his buried explosives went, each close to the center of the campsite and away from where he lay. A high-pitched whine streaked into his ears as he snatched up the pistol and rolled. He brought the weapon to bear, ready to fire.
Ivan wasn't there. Smoke and dust kicked up from the mines clouded around, and Grey couldn't see any sign of his enemy. His augmented and normally insulated hearing still shrieked with the noise. Swiveling the pistol back and forth, he scanned, desperate to find Ivan. The bounty hunter's eyes stung from blood, sweat, and dust. Grey blinked, trying to clear them.
Without even the slightest hint of detecting his foe's approach, Grey's arms clamped down at his sides. The pistol was knocked from his grasp, and a moment later the bounty hunter was hoisted into the air and slammed into the ground.
An audible crack from his ballistic armor cut through the shrieking in his ears. The wind rushed from his lungs, his forehead again rebounding off the hard ground. Stars danced in front of his eyes, and he coughed. In a daze, something was tugging, yanking at his legs. What's he doing? Grey thought, touching another button at his belt.
The blast went off underneath him. His armor, the finest money could buy, was incredibly tough. Instead of blowing a hole through his torso, the explosive merely broke and cracked a total of six ribs and sent him flying through the air with Ivan still clinging to his back.
The Legend of Ivan Page 19