"Wait here," my guide told me. He moved to the door, hesitating before turning back. "This is the man who saved us. Because of him, we are able to live as decent, dignified people. We consider him one of us, and we always take care of our own." He stepped out.
I sat in the facility, hardly daring to believe Bethel would return with my quarry: the subject of my assignment and obsession. So much time spent, so much recent danger.
Again the flailing lament rose to the surface, highlighting my choices and the difficulties of recent days. I worried about what would happen if Cain caught up to me here, and I was surprised to further discover a twinge of guilt for bringing risk down upon these poor individuals.
I tried to shove aside the feelings, frustrated and shocked at their refusal to depart. With time to myself, I dedicated a moment to question my own thoughts. I searched for signs of Dana's ghost meddling and finally brought the emotional turmoil to the front of my consideration. Though whispery echoes of her tingled in my mind, providing a mystery of how much remained of her, I couldn't detect any direct manipulation.
It had to be her. She was the main factor, the only change in my recent existence, but it didn't seem as though her tiny vestige was actually doing anything to me.
The more I tried to disregard, to rationalize the guilt, the more it pressed in around me. My mind battered against it: I was no longer human; I was task driven and unemotional. An Archivist, no more than a human recorder: no longer possessing, needing, or wanting a true sense of self.
I took a deep breath, remaining confused by the stream of dormant emotion. My rational mind tried to inform me it was a product of compartmentalization. The freedom gained by reaching the end of my goal allowed other thoughts and problems to surface.
The theory didn't help my contemplative affliction, and I wondered if it was even correct. Dana's ghost finally stirred. She tittered in my thoughts and shoved forth a recent memory:
"There's enough human left in you to do the right thing. Don't disappoint me Archivist."
It was the statement at the end of Grey's message. Most of my mind scoffed at it, but part of me wondered if the idea of me lacking humanity truly was the problem. Maybe I wasn't experiencing an arbitrary emotional state based upon a malfunction; maybe it all linked to what Grey said. Maybe part of my long dead human state was struggling to be recognized.
Even so, the "right thing" for this situation was a fluid concept. I supposed not jeopardizing the well-being of these former slaves, the people on Dei Lucrii, and even the idiotic drunks in the bar on the shipyard would be the right thing to do. On the other hand, very little of the chaos in the Ivan search was directly my fault.
The ghost of Dana snickered as if to remind me of how and why she was now plaguing my thoughts. I sighed out loud, wondering how much longer I'd have to be sitting there alone. I glanced about the room, hoping perhaps the introspection, in spite of it being present long before I arrived, was a result of some kind of gaseous narcotic. I detected no such thing.
Perhaps it truly was Dana, spurring the thoughts, not allowing them to depart back into the unemotional and obsessive state. I felt a trickle of laughter, whispering in the corners of my mind. Whether it was a vindicated sense of triumph in her success at causing me trouble or simply pleasure at my discomfort, I didn't know.
All of my consideration evaporated as the door opened. My powerful obsessive nature easily kicked the emotions aside, now ready to return and finish the task.
Silhouetted in the doorway was the figure of an enormous man, tall and broad-shouldered. He wore the torn, dirt-stained clothing of a laborer and gloves with the fingertips cut out. Heavy boots thudded upon the floor as he approached, echoing and seemingly amplifying the minute vibrations as small asteroids continued to nudge the housing of the slaver facility.
A stubbled face and head revealed incredibly fair skin. Nicks and scars adorned various visible places on his head and body, and piercing blue eyes shone out, appearing to radiate their own light. His squarish head with a prominent chin seemed tiny atop the massive chest, and thick muscle covered every inch of his body.
Staring at this man, I didn't notice I was holding my breath.
"Hello." His voice was deep and booming, a monotone lilt and slight accent cementing his identity in my mind. "You must be this Archivist Sid who has spent so much time looking for me. I am Afanasi Sergeyevich Lukyanov. You may call me Ivan."
******
Never before in any information gathering assignment have I been so struck, shocked, or amazed at the magnitude of a discovery. My mind, capable of instantaneous memory recollection and lightning calculation, froze for a moment.
I stood, not quite knowing what to do or say. Finally, I spit out something. "And here you are."
The man raised an eyebrow.
Smiling at my own foolishness, I said, "It's been quite a journey."
"Yes, I can imagine." Ivan didn't appear to be as impressed or excited as I was. "It seems you have been turning many stones in the search to find me."
Realizing that my attitude was as close to childish as I could muster, I let the mirth slip out of me. The calm and cool attitude of subject interview settled over me, tempered only a little by the unkillable giddiness.
"Have a seat." I gestured at the chair opposite.
Ivan folded his thick arms over his massive chest. "I do not wish to be rude, in particular after you have spent so much of your time trying to arrive at this place. However, before we progress any deeper, I will need to know your intentions." Danger loomed beneath the question.
A tiny thought wondered how I would fare against Ivan, or better yet how Cain would. The still-excited portion of my mind irrationally wished I could make such a fight happen. On the outside, I remained in complete and relaxed calm. "Primarily, I am seeking specific detail regarding your actions at Atropos Garden. Second, I..."
I trailed off, noting a quickly concealed expression of sorrow cross my quarry's face. The smallest hint of moisture formed in the radiant blue eyes, which narrowed as he noticed my close perusal.
"Second," I continued, "out of a sense of personal curiosity, I wish to have you validate or repudiate some of the many actions attributed to your name." I gestured at him. "Even out here, in hiding and seclusion, you must hear some of them."
Ivan shrugged. "A few, here and there, but I assure you I am not much of a match for any one of the stories." He waved a hand. "We will get into those in one moment, but you must understand I will not allow you to do anything to put these people in danger. I also would prefer not to put myself to any trouble."
I narrowed my eyes. "After all this time, do you think that's at all possible?"
He grinned, flashing white teeth. "Of course not. Preference is always at odds with practicality, no? I would prefer for myself to remain quiet and unscathed here, but a practical mind suggests such a thing is not so probable."
I cracked the slightest smile.
"However," his eyes went hard, "I will insist upon the safety of this place and these people. They have endured enough hardship."
After a moment of consideration, I gave a nod.
"In any case," Ivan continued, "I have heard a few things about you in the last short while. Some say you are a good man."
"And others suggest I'm not a man at all." I waved his statement aside. "What I am is clear and unimportant in equal measures. I've come here to talk about you."
Ivan spread his massive hands. "Here I am before you. To whatever end, you may begin asking your questions."
I decided to start simply, asking for confirmation on some of the stories and actions of myth. I had developed my own conclusions during the time of my search, but I hoped discussion of a lighter tone would keep the focus away from my intrusive presence. I retained no doubt that he could take me apart in the span of seconds, but based on my research, I believed him to be somewhat honor-bound. Regardless, I hoped to ease him into the discussion.
In additi
on, it appeared Grey's message provided not only a warning but a character dossier, summary, or something else. Why Grey, Ivan, and several others, including the whisperings of Dana and my own subconscious, focused on my humanity and ability to do the "right thing," I didn't know.
We spoke about Hunter's End.
"Ahhh," he settled back in his chair. "I believe I had more enjoyment in that place than many others. There is nothing better than a relaxed, carefree, mostly legal job. But a cannon, you say?"
I said, "The information was second-hand, initially provided by the inebriant guide you had and passed on to the barkeep with whom I spoke."
"Ah yes," Ivan said with a reminiscent smile, "the poor man seemed uncertain as to what was going on. I carried a large weapon, yes, and did bring down the monster in very short order, but it was an explosive launcher. Rockets and such. The idea, however, of using such an unorthodox weapon is interesting indeed..."
Nodding, I moved on.
"Hmmm..." Ivan rubbed his chin. "I admit my memory of the procedure is in many ways hazy." I had asked him about his experience with Keritas. "I was to be a subject in their experiments, and I was in very bad shape when they brought me there. I'm afraid I don't remember much of it. It was, ah... augmentations. To save my life among other things." He flexed his muscles. "I don't precisely recall how it was I departed, but... aside from muscle and bone pain lasting many months, I have not met anyone as strong as I. In addition to healing my injuries, I believe they added something extra."
Interesting, maybe the crackpot digging around inside the maintenance tunnels of the Keritas facility was correct about the breakout. Maybe he actually was Dr. Trevors, gone mad from the strain and a head injury. Something experimental and new levels of potent augmentation technology would have explained Ivan's prodigious success in his endeavors.
Time passed as we spoke, seldom pausing. A dark cloud passed again over his face as Ivan recalled his time with and against Voux Hanatar. "The man deserved far worse," was all Ivan said before we moved on.
I asked about the battles of Caldonis and New Prague. Ivan shook his head. "I was indeed present, but as a volunteer, not a mercenary. My actions were important but not vital; I believe it was, eh... overblown? It was so long ago..."
A few other of his minor actions came to light. "Did you go EVA without a suit?"
Ivan threw his head back and laughed, slapping an open palm on the desk. "That incident was without question the most stupid thing I have ever done. Yes, the man's life was saved, but I would not have survived if I hadn't gotten the operation at Keritas I remember so little of."
An interesting connection. Timelines of the stories were somewhat vague; it made me again curious to know more about what the corporation did to Ivan.
I skirted aside the Garden incident, as it represented the pinnacle of what I needed to speak with Ivan about. We continued to talk, and he laughed at some of the more outrageous claims. As we neared the end of the conversation, the mirth slowly faded out.
The same flicker of sadness came over him as we spoke about the original hunt, but it remained in place as we discussed the near misses he endured. From what I knew, the bounty hunters never came very close to capturing him, but he insisted they were skilled and formidable.
In a somber tone, he described his fight with Traverian Grey. "A few times in the past, we encountered each other. I so dearly hoped his offer of assistance was true. It wasn't, but of course you know that. When he tried to claim the bounty, we fought. He lost."
"Do you know why he contacted you recently?" I asked, curious about the former mercenary's motivation.
Ivan shrugged. "You say he was in, what, a cult devoted to me?" He shook his head and laughed. "Who knows why? This was the first I'd heard of him since our fight. I didn't know where he went or what he was up to. Him knowing where I've been hiding is as much of a surprise as him not coming here to try and finish his job."
"He doesn't seem interested in mercenary work any longer," I said.
"A pity." Ivan chuckled. "He was the best."
Thinking back upon Grey's crippled status, I said, "Evidently not."
"Ah! You say because I beat him I am better, yes?"
Spreading my hands, I replied, "Am I wrong?"
Ivan wagged a finger. "I may hold more fame, but Mister Grey's success is not in his notoriety but in his lack of it."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Is it not best to do the job and go unnoticed?" Ivan asked. "My tiniest deeds are a matter of myth and foolishness. Everything has been blown open to the grandest stupidity. All people in the galaxy know and fear my name. Mister Grey? His name is known to a few, and he cares not. The job, the task was what mattered to him, and he lived his life based upon it."
"Ah," I cracked a half-smile, "but his existence developed from a need for self-satisfaction. His hubris ended up breaking him; he's only a shell of his former self."
"Yet you say he chooses, with his infinite finances, to remain in quiet retirement."
Nodding, I said, "Yes, but out of fear. He knew his relentless nature would send him after you, his only failed conquest."
Ivan laughed openly. "One failure is all for him, eh? So we consider our levels of success as not fame or fear generated but a simple equation of success versus failure. I assure you in such a case, Mister Grey wins quite easily."
I smirked. "I suppose you're correct. Regardless, I believe we have come to the end of it. You know what I have to ask."
The enormous man's grin faded, and he let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, of course. Ask your questions then. I will answer as I see fit."
"I want to know what happened at Atropos Garden." A thought struck me. "And I believe it may relate to something else I'm curious about."
He gestured for me to continue.
I cleared my throat. "The name OLGA has appeared throughout these stories." At the mention of the name, Ivan stiffened as though startled. Watching his expression dissolve into sorrow, I continued. "It came first as the title of your weapon, then as pieces of experimental technology, simple tools, your ship, and several others. Grey had the idea that it was the project name dealing with your vessel and other new technology. Is that what OLGA was?"
Ivan bent his neck, touching a hand to his forehead. "It is almost funny. You see, you are right, and your two questions about Olga and the incident at the Garden are very much linked. Olga..." He covered his mouth with a hand. "Olga is... was... all of those things you heard she was. She is the weapon, the tools, the ship, and she even resides in my very bones. It is to her I owe everything: my happiness, sorrow, regret, guilt, and yes, even the renown which grants the galaxy fear of my name."
A hint of moisture formed in the clear blue eyes as he looked at me. "You see, Olga was not some piece of advanced technology or a research project. Olga was my wife, and God rest her, she was responsible for what happened at the Garden."
Archivist Sid
Assignment:
Seeking information regarding the truth and whereabouts of Ivan.
Location:
Vapaus Colony
Report:
*Pending*
Probability:
n/a
Summary:
*Pending*
Chapter 13: The Legend of Olga
Olga.
To Ivan, she was everything. All of his actions, all the work, all of the payment, and every major success leading to the stories of legend...
Because of Olga.
The woman Ivan described as filled with endless beauty and grace was, like Ivan, born on New Kharkov. Childhood companions, raised in poverty, their friendship blossomed into unyielding love and devotion. Ivan was clever with hands, strong enough to handle any labor task, and swift to judge the encounters of a low-income life. In direct contrast and complement, Olga was a tiny, somewhat clumsy woman with unmatched brilliance.
"I admit," Ivan said with a sheepish grin, "I sometimes pretend to be a little more ignorant tha
n I truly am. However, her abilities and intellect made me appear as less than the most simple child."
Her boundless curiosity and ineptitude with most elements of physical requirement left her often in trouble. Tripping, falling, accidentally insulting someone who likely didn't quite know what she was saying, and other childhood mishaps were often mitigated by the hulking presence of her later-years lover.
Ivan kept her safe in a large number of difficult circumstances. Already with a reputation of brute strength and the ability to use it, those who preyed upon the weak knew very quickly that Olga was not to be bothered.
Though massive, strong, and quick to aggression, Ivan's temperament softened with Olga's influence. And so they grew together, fondness forming over the course of many years. Ivan's aggressive nature all but disappeared by seeing her smile and hearing her endless rationality.
He vowed to keep her safe through everything she did: to provide his life, blood, toil, sweat, and anything else he had to make sure she was happy and satisfied. Driven by ambition, she worked without ceasing at every goal she made. Even so, there never lay a moment she couldn't spare for her favorite giant.
Olga's steadfast determination in some ways made her careless. When she entered a university, she conducted research at a blinding pace. An accident took her hand.
"I did everything I could," Ivan said with a sad smile. "I saved every credit from every job I could find. I remained talented at the less delicate arts, and I was able to get enough together to afford a prosthetic."
But Olga's temperament did not soften from the accident. "They were not of the highest quality, but the better ones were a hundred times the cost. She went through one every few months, it seemed." Ivan threw back his head and laughed. "When I asked what she wanted me to do with the old ones, she said, 'It makes no difference to me, Ivan. Sell them for scrap metal, decorate your ship,' but I decided upon something different."
The Legend of Ivan Page 23
