“There was something Cobb always said every time he started this story. I believe it wouldn’t do this Ivan fella or Cobb himself justice if I told it any other way.
Ivan punched a dinosaur.
Hunter’s End just so happens to be on the ass end of the ass end of the galaxy, as I’m sure you’re so keenly aware, good Archivist. The usual devices were set up to fix the unlivable conditions, only take a few hundred or so years to accelerate nothing into proto-goo. Before you know it, they got eating, breathing, shitting life. Well in that time, administrations changed hands, documents and hard drives fell into the incinerator, people moved on with their lives, and, whoops, someone misplaced a planet.
The terraforming processes were a set it and forget it type of arrangement. In this case, “forget it” was key. Plenty of ambient life sprang up in the meanwhile, and, by the time the damn place was re-discovered, some monstrous lizards had the run of it.
The usual pack of rough-edged explorers found it teeming with all manner of life, thinking it was some monumental discovery that’d make them stinking rich. They thought they’d claim and sell it off to some corporation or another. One of the people, however, took one look at the size of the critters down below and thought of something else.
He figured that the big lizards were like the ones found on prehistoric Old Earth, so the guy came up with a different idea: one that stuck.
They turned the whole damn planet into a game preserve.
All across the galaxy, the most daring folk dropped in to try and bag one of the bigger beasties, and hell if a few didn’t end up with some mighty fine trophies in the end.
Many more of ’em ended up torn to shreds.
There was something a little funny about the way they ran things there, Cobb always told me. Some of the finer hardware in life, energy weapons and the like, seemed a bit finicky down on the planet. The folks in charge talked about how the electromagnetic interference from solar radiation or something like that screwed ’em up. ‘Course, most everyone else thought the proprietors ran some kind of device to make the challenge more…
Well, challenging.
It added to the thrill of it, using archaic metal shooters to take down some giant lizards. Flechette guns were still allowed, but they didn’t have the same punch against the thick hides of the bigger beasties. And thank goodness the world sat too far out to bother with because our lovely core government probably didn’t think much of the fifty percent or so fatality rate. It’s no wonder they named the place Hunter’s End.
In any case, Cobb found himself less sober than usual, laid off of a recent mining gig somewhere within a few weeks travel to Hunter’s. The owners came by lookin’ for warm bodies to be employed in their fine establishment.
“The pay was good,” he’d always say, “if you could survive the term of the contract.”
The amount of money the owners were raking in could afford a pretty high premium, and most of it went back into services in the tiny colony anyway. If the employee happened to pass on, well… let’s just say that wills didn’t often enter into the equation.
Cobb hopped from job to job down there, either by some bloke getting eaten or too scared to stick around. Drunk as he was most of the time, there wasn’t a whole lot of fear or wisdom in his blood.
So Cobb became a guide.
It seemed he found his true calling in life, as Cobb, even three sheets to the wind, could always find his way out and back. He might be missing a hunter or two, but he himself always managed a return.
His last run was with a man who called himself Ivan.
Now, I’ve heard more than my share of stories about this guy, and the size, shape, and stature changes more often than fashion trends in the core. A tiny guy, a huge guy. He’s dark-skinned, light-skinned, every Old Earth nationality put together. He’s an alien, he’s a devil. I’m sure you know, Archivist.
The way Cobb told it was that Ivan was huge and fair-skinned. A regular bear of a man with a rumbling laugh that would shake the walls and the liquor tolerance of a whale. Reckless and wild, he was strong as a bull with twice the temper. He’d crush you to death with a hug, and that’s if he liked you.
Of course, Cobb only spent a few hours with the man, so I don’t take much stock in anything but his description of Ivan’s appearance. He said the man had a funny way of talkin’, almost harsh in its sound. I’ll try to mimic the way he portrayed it for your benefit, Archivist, but I’m not much good at that sort of thing. Hell, I don’t know if Cobb had it right to begin with.
Anyway, what Cobb always said, before he got too deep into exaggeration, was that Ivan had a sense of brains inside the brutish body. “A hint of cleverness,” he said. It’s probably why the big fella made it outta Hunter’s End with more than his own skin.”
The settlement area stank to high heaven, due to the thick repellant necessary to keep the vicious beasts away. It worked for the most part, though they kept defense towers on the walls with pretty heavy equipment in case. The owners turned a tidy profit from the insanity and death their preserve offered, but they obviously wanted nothing to do with the massive beasts themselves.
It was a muggy afternoon when Cobb stumbled out of his bunk, strung out with a pounding headache. After the usual bout of morning retching as his body reminded him of the dangers of drinking, he took a swig from his three-quarters empty bottle of whiskey.
“Raymond,” a voice called. He looked up to see the fellow with the laughable title of “Tour Planning Advisor” heading towards him.
“Mornin’ boss,” Cobb replied in a thick slur.
Shaking his head, the advisor replied, “It’s after noon, Raymond, and we got a small group ready to go. They’re looking to find Max.”
Max was somewhat of a legendary figure. Supposedly he was the biggest, meanest, blood-thirstiest lizard on the planet. The beast was rumored to have been the end of more than three hundred wayward hunters.
“I sawr ‘im plain as day,” Cobb told anyone who would hear it, especially if the individual be willing to provide drinks for the duration of the story. “Th’ meanest sumbitch, fitty feet high with bigass teeth and leathery skin tough as starship plate. I tell ya, Max’d chewed up ‘is share of dumbass gunnies. He had nuttin’ on Ivan though.”
Following behind the advisor, Cobb vaguely wondered, as he always did, if this would be his last run. The pay was far too good though, and he considered how many other places allowed heavy intoxication on the job. The customers were too reckless to care about that particular added risk, and the owners didn’t care much about the guides or the guests.
“They’re already waiting by the transport,” the advisor told Cobb, who nodded and took off at a jog. Managing not to stumble or fall down, he approached the transport helicopter, the usual anti-grav or hover lifts not functioning due to the interference.
Cobb’s jaw hit the floor when he saw the hunting party. One man was armed to the teeth. Bandoliers of ammunition and weaponry were strapped across what appeared to be every inch of his body. Slung across his back was a massive flechette rifle, the type that fired the razor clouds instead of the single rounds. Against the warnings of the establishment, he also carried an assortment of energy pistols. Hard ballistic body armor coated his torso and limbs with the matching helmet laying on the floor of the helicopter. Combat knives lay in sheathes, strapped to several locations on the armor.
The man was short, laughably so, but the armaments he carried would have kept Cobb’s mouth shut even if the second man wasn’t twice as scary.
He stood to be at least six and a half feet tall and three-quarters that wide. Cobb’s first thought was that they brought a shaved bear along for tracking or something. He continued to gawk at the huge figure as he noted that the man slung what appeared to be an iron tube over his shoulder. Small etchings lay across its dirty and marred surface, and it took Cobb several moments to figure out the device was actually a small cannon.
“You must be Raymond Cobb,” the enormous man said, crushing Cobb’s hand in his grip as they shook and pounding the guide on the back. “I am Afanasi Sergeyevich Lukyanov.”
Cobb stood, blinking and wondering if his hand or spine had shattered under the greeting onslaught. His scattered mind comprehended about a tenth of the name, and he gave a blank stare.
“Call me Ivan!” the man bellowed, grinning. “My associate is the very unoriginal Mister Grey.” The short man gave a nod. “We are here to take down a nasty beast.”
Not having rediscovered his ability to speak, Cobb nodded and gestured for them to enter the helicopter.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Ivan nodded, stepping into the passenger area. Without a word, Grey jumped in as well. Cobb took his seat in the cockpit with the pilot, donning a headset as the whirling blades roared to life.
“Where to?” the pilot called through the radio, looking at Cobb with expectation.
Synapses were sluggish to fire in Cobb’s brain, but the brief conversation with the advisor rolled into his mind. “They’re takin’ a shot at Max. You know where he’d be?”
The pilot laughed. “By the usual stomping grounds, I’d wager; it’ll take us a few hours to get to the base camp near there.” He shook his head. “Time enough to give these fellas their last rites?”
Cobb nodded and took a final swig from the bottle he grasped, chucking it out the window as the craft rose into the air. He took a couple of glances at the formidable pair in the back, who appeared unconcerned that their quarry had killed so many. After a few minutes, Cobb closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He jolted awake from a shallow, dreamless nap when the helicopter touched down, for a moment forgetting where, who and what he was. The thick stink of the critter repellant brought his mind back to task, and he hopped out of the transport into one of the secondary base camps. He was quite used to the smell and even associated it with safety.
Grey and Ivan slid out, gathering their armory as they exited. Grey featured the usual grimace as he set his helmet with transparent visor in place, and Ivan wore a wide grin as he hauled the small but heavy iron cannon out. Cobb noted slots all around the large man’s coat, round protrusions which must have held ammunition.
Perspiration poured down Cobb’s body, quite normal with the usual heat and humidity. It appeared neither Ivan nor Grey, even heavily laden, were sweating at all.
Shouting over the winding down helicopter, Ivan noted Cobb’s stare. “Olga is very beautiful, yes? Would you like to hold her?”
Ivan made as if to drop the weapon onto Cobb, at which the drunk shuffled backwards. “N-no. That’s okay.”
Bellowing a laugh, Ivan said, “I kid, I kid, friend. It is as well, as I am a jealous man. My Olga may be loud and unruly, but her kiss will always knock a man from his feet.” Ivan lovingly patted the cannon and hoisted it over his shoulder. He turned to his companion. “Mister Grey, are we prepared to move out?”
The quiet comrade gave a nod and started walking towards the exit of the base camp.
“Wait, wait!” Cobb yelled, moving to catch up. “We need to talk about safety precautions and… and company policies on bag limits!”
Ivan shook his head. “I’m sorry, my friend, but we are on a strict deadline for this job. Can you inform us on the way?”
Cobb, confused, didn’t feel like arguing with the huge man carrying the cannon. He trudged along beside the pair, mumbling through the various required pieces of information. The legal junk never meant much to him.
The company owned the planet and was technically subject to Galactic Central Government law, but enforcement was limited. Even so, having the proper warnings and policy was a good way to cover themselves in case of a surprise inspection, a lawsuit, or something else.
Grey remained quiet while they traveled through the dense jungle. He moved in front, hacking away at the overgrowth with a long knife. Cobb provided the occasional bit of direction, consulting a device when necessary to get proper bearings.
Ivan plodded along, singing loudly in a language Cobb didn’t recognize. Every so often, he’d spot a small creature: a six-legged color-changer clinging to a tree, a snake hanging out of the branches, or some tiny animal scurrying through the underbrush. He’d develop a broad grin and point it out, as though each was an amazing discovery.
“So why are you fellas out here, then?” Cobb asked, shirt clinging from sweat. Taking a swig of water, he wished he hadn’t exhausted his whiskey bottle.
“To hunt, my friend!” Ivan said. “I’d think that would be obvious, no?”
Cobb sputtered, “Well, ya, I know—”
Ivan laughed and slapped the guide on the back, nearly knocking the man sprawling. “Yes, yes, I’m merely poking fun. We are working for a client who wishes to have an impressive trophy on his mantle.”
Paling, Cobb responded, “You don’t think that Max is a little much for that?”
“My employer says to me, ‘Ivan! You bring me the biggest creature in all the lands!’ I find out about this place, and your employer was kind enough to tell me about this Max fellow. So I take Olga and this Mister Grey along to bring down the beast.”
Checking their position, Cobb noted they were nearing the ridge, inside Max’s territory. “Okay, we’re gonna want to keep quiet now.”
They progressed, thick underbrush pressing in on all sides. The ground started an upward incline, and they continued along. A noise, faint at first, rose as they moved: a deep rumble like boulders rolling down a mountainside. As they approached, the underbrush spread, leaving a wide path of trampled greenery.
“Goodness!” Ivan said in a whisper, noting a muddy track in the ground. Three toed, the footprint was quite deep and near the length of a man across. “The beast does not tread lightly, I see!”
Swallowing hard, Cobb didn’t reply. He’d never seen Max until then, but the stories were terrifying. His body shook with fear, and he prayed these men were half as impressive as they appeared. More of the huge tracks became evident, and what Cobb realized was the stinking breath of the massive beast rattled in and out.
Up ahead, sunlight bathed a clearing of trampled, thick mud nestled up against a jutting shelf of rock. The enormous creature with its thick, leathery hide lay in an obvious sprawl within the nest.
Max, the titan who had killed hundreds, appeared to be sleeping. His massive head rested upon the ground, and his long tail laid straight out behind him.
“Motherinheaven…” Cobb breathed out, noticing the thick smell of rotting flesh spewing out of a nearby, half-eaten carcass. Smaller scavengers swarmed over the dead creature, ripping out their own share of the kill. Whatever the corpse had been was near impossible to discern considering its state. The little creatures glanced at the hunting party before returning to their meal.
Snoring away, Max didn’t notice the intruders.
“Okay,” Cobb whispered, twitching and wanting to run as fast as he could in the other direction. “Kill it.”
Grey moved forward, unslinging his flechette rifle and taking aim.
“No, no, no!” Ivan shouted, startling the smaller animals swarming over the corpse. “This is not right, I say! The monster should be given a fighting chance, no?” Cupping his hands over his mouth, to Cobb’s horror, he bellowed, “Max: scaly devilous beast! You may call me IVAN! I have come to bring you to your end!”
Shooting his companion a surprised glare, Grey turned back in time to see the creature’s eye pop open. With a haste born of any hunting beast, Max scrambled to his feet and roared at the intruders.
The monster stood fifty feet long, standing on two legs with tiny forelimbs in front. The travelers gawked, marveling at his size and stature. Even Grey was stunned, only a dozen feet in front of the massive beast. Scaly hide rippled over thick muscle, and impossibly long teeth jutted down on either side of his jaws. Max crouched, clawed forelimbs twitching, while his hind legs tensed. A long tail swayed back and forth behind him.
Max appeared ready to pounce.
“I’ll never know if ol’ Max had any brains up in that bigass skull o’ his,” Cobb would say to many a traveler years later, “but I swear on my ma’s Godrested soul that the sumbitch was sizin’ us up. Never been so sceerd in my life.”
A few moments of silence dripped by.
Max lunged forward, impossibly fast, and Grey squeezed the trigger. A burst of flechette needles peppered the face of the monster, tiny pinpricks of blood dotting and dripping from the wound. Unfazed, Max continued his charge.
Grey tried to duck as the creature twisted its neck and opened massive jaws. In an instant, the smallish man was hoisted into the air, caught within Max’s mouth. Grey’s eyes widened behind the clear visor of his helmet, but he gave no cry of fear or pain.
Wretched cracking noises filled the nest, and Cobb gawked in terror as Max worked his powerful jaws up and down. Brain-dead from fear and years of alcoholism, it took Cobb a few moments to realize that the sounds were not the snap and crunch of flesh and bones but of the hard ballistic armor.
Grey made no sound as his body was mashed inside the dense armor. While none of Max’s arm-length teeth pierced the protective gear, the compression was enough to crack and break ribs. Max continued to ignore the man who issued the challenge and woke him up.
The captive in Max’s jaws regained enough composure to yank an energy pistol from his belt and squeeze the trigger. A flash of weak light spewed out of Max’s mouth, and the beast roared in surprise and anger. Max snapped his head upward, and Grey tumbled out of the creature’s mouth, falling with a heavy thud onto the ground. Facedown, the hunter didn’t move. Recovering, with a trail of smoke billowing out of his mouth, Max glared downward and made as if to snatch Grey again.
“Come, my monstrous friend!” Ivan shouted, taking aim. “Olga would like to give you a kiss!”
Cobb dropped to the ground as a deafening explosion sounded, thinking that the cannon Ivan carried had exploded. Covering his head, he feared the shrapnel from it would tear him to pieces or wound him enough for Max to finish him off once Grey was safely down his gullet.
“I thought it were the end fer me,” he’d shake his head, “but goddamned if I didn’t look up and see that Ivan fella with a bigass grin.”
Looking over at Max, Cobb noted the beast’s almost surprised expression accompanied by a gaping red hole in his chest. Max lurched back and forth, unsteady.
The wound gushed blood, spilling down the thick hide, and wheezing sounds escaped the creature’s throat. After a moment, Max fell, narrowly missing the fallen form of Grey. After twitching a few times, the beast lay still.
With a cry of triumph, Ivan raised the cannon over his head. “A worthy foe!”
Cobb whimpered on the ground, passing a terrified glance at the fallen Grey, who still didn’t move.
A heavy hand fell upon him, hauling Cobb to a standing position. Ivan grinned down at him. “My Olga always aims for the heart, but let us see to our friend before we signal for the pickup, yes?”
Cobb nodded, struck silent. He and Ivan moved towards their comrade, who stirred weakly.
“Mister Grey! It is good that you are not dead!” Ivan said, gently prodding the downed man.
Grunting in pain, Grey rolled over. “Cut it out, you oaf,” he rasped, his open mouth revealing blood-rimmed teeth from internal bleeding. “My ribs are broken.”
“Much more than that, I suspect,” Ivan grinned, “but we will ensure you live long enough to get paid. Your role in diversion was quite helpful, after all.”
Grey scowled and didn’t respond. His head laid back, and he glared skyward as though insulted to be reduced to such.
“Contacting the extraction would be good, yes?” Ivan asked Cobb, who stared dumbly back. “Yes?” he repeated after a moment without response.
Still unable to process much, Cobb nodded and got on the radio. He called in the biggest extraction vessel they had available. One of the perks of the rare success was that management helped drag the critters back. Once there, the person had to handle taking the kill off world, including any planetary customs issues that might come up from hauling in a large, dead alien creature.
Stuffing the radio back into his pocket, Cobb said, “The transport’ll be on it’s way soon.”
“Good, good.” Ivan nodded as he walked over to his kill. He stooped down, staring into the lifeless carcass of the enormous beast. “Almost too easy,” he murmured. Max’s eye remained open and vacant, easily as big as the large man’s head. With a savage kick, Ivan dislodged one of Max’s smaller fangs, still the length of his hand. He picked it up and placed it in his pack.
“Olga would like me to keep a souvenir, as our large friend here will be gracing the hall of my employer.” Ivan swept a gesture at the large beast, and Cobb merely nodded. He checked his watch, wishing he had something to drink to pass the time before the transport arrived. He contemplated hiking back to the secondary base, but he decided it violated policy too much. Cobb sat down next to a tree.
Ivan continued to pick over the fallen creature, noting its wicked claws and tapping against its hide. Examining the entry wound, he patted the cannon lovingly and said something Cobb didn’t catch.
Watching, Cobb noticed Ivan cock his head. The large hunter set down his weapon and climbed over the mountainous body, moving towards the interior of the muddy nest. Stooping down, Ivan scraped aside and dug into the mud.
“Find somethin’?” Cobb called out.
Standing, Ivan nodded. “Indeed I have.” He hefted a large spherical object, as big as his own torso. Cobb stared dumbly, his brain identifying it after a few sluggish moments.
“Oh…” Cobb said, “Does that mean…?”
Ivan grinned. “Perhaps Maxine would be more a more accurate title, yes?”
“Uhhh… I guess.”
Something moved nearby: a rustle in the underbrush. A jolt of fear and adrenaline coursed into Cobb, and he jumped to his feet. “Didja hear that?” he hissed.
Ivan held up a hand, setting down the egg. Hopping back over to where Olga lay, he knelt and placed a hand on the weapon.
Another soft rustle occurred, this time on the opposite side of the nest.
Cobb shot a look over at Grey, whose eyes darted back and forth. “The rifle,” he said to Cobb, “bring it here, now!”
Shaking with fear, Cobb shuffled over to the dropped flechette rifle. It was covered in mud, but he brought it back to the fallen Grey, who painfully leaned up on an elbow. He took the weapon in one arm and scanned the underbrush.
“Something comes,” Ivan said.
Bipedal lizard-creatures burst out of the jungle on all sides, a deafening cacophony of screeching noises accompanying their charge.
Cobb’s life flashed before his eyes when he saw what appeared to be smaller, man-sized versions of Max, or Maxine. They ran on two legs but were brandishing longer forelimbs tipped with vicious claws. Their own scaly hides shimmered in the mid-day sun.
Grey didn’t hesitate. With the soft fupp! of the flechette rifle, one creature’s head burst against the cloud of razor-sharp needles. Cobb screamed as Grey continued firing, cursing under his breath. Several more fell.
Glancing over, Cobb’s jaw dropped to see Ivan engaged in melee combat with the vicious creatures. The large man swung the cannon in wide arcs, smashing the heavy weapon into the heads and bodies of the beasts. A wild grin stood out on his face as he worked his way towards his comrades, the cannon whipping back and forth and keeping the creatures at bay.
Grey’s face contorted in a snarl as he fired upon the monsters that continued to spill from the jungle. Cobb cowered between the two men as they defended the weak position. After running dry on ammo, Grey cast aside the rifle and yanked two energy pistols from holsters. Weak flashes, nowhere near the full potential of the deadly light, blinded and burned a couple of the creatures.
Something hit Cobb in the back. He was knocked sprawling to the ground with something heavy on top of him, and sharp daggers pierced into his back. The wind squeezed out of his lungs, and he tried to scream.
Ivan whirled around, hurling the cannon into the midsection of the beast. Cobb, though disoriented, heard an audible crack as the creature’s bones shattered under the impact, and the iron behemoth dragged it to the ground. Cobb watched it weakly struggling, intense pain obvious in its eyes.
Cobb screamed as he saw another creature charging him, claws brandished and mouth wide open, either weapon prepared to tear out his throat.
Ivan’s gloved fist smashed into the side of the beast’s face, awareness vanishing from its eyes as it stumbled and fell upon Cobb.
The unconscious creature’s hard skull impacted Cobb’s own, and he was knocked completely senseless.
The barman stood silent for a moment, in thought. It wasn’t unusual, every so often during the story he would stumble over a piece or two of information and halt in consideration. Many times he’d interject and mention that a certain bit was one of Cobb’s more elaborate embellishments. Francis had heard the story enough times to determine his own version of the truth regarding it.
“’Course, the way Cobb said it some days, he snatched up one of them energy pistols and cooked a few of the ambushin’ beasts himself.” The barman shrugged.
I considered the possibilities. “That seems doubtful, considering his average mental state.”
Francis nodded. “Yep. But, anyway, Cobb said he woke up a few hours later with a splitting headache back in the camp. It seemed Ivan and Grey had already packed up ol’ Maxine and a few of the littler ones and blasted themselves outta there.”
“What about Cobb himself?”
“He didn’t stick around too much longer. One really, really close call was enough. He took the wages he’d made, minus penalties for dodging early, and split. ‘Course…” he chuckled, “wasn’t but a few years later someone found a better use for that game preserve.”
Having done a measure of research, I was somewhat aware of what happened. “Copper, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed. Soma-Corp caught wind of a worthwhile copper deposit. The proprietors of Hunter’s End were buried under a mountain of regulatory paperwork and threats. Rather than deal with the sticky mess, management cut a deal and sold it. Less’n a few months later, Soma vaporized everything on the planet and started to mine it hollow. That was it for Hunter’s End.”
I cracked a smirk. “Which has made obtaining records of people who traveled there somewhat difficult.”
“I’d imagine so.”
I thought for a moment. “You indicated that he had been telling this story for many years. Have the names ever changed within it?”
“You mean: did Cobb ever decide that the story would get more listeners if it was accredited to Ivan instead of someone else?” Francis peered down his nose at me.
I nodded.
Shaking his head, he replied, “I don’t think so. Of all the things, the details that jumped back and forth in Cobb’s little tale, it’s always been about Ivan. That’s why I always wondered if there might be somethin’ to it, ya know?”
We lapsed into silence, each contemplating.
The barman cleared his throat. “So where ya headin’ now, Archivist?”
“Uncertain. In some fashion, I intend to seek out Traverian Grey and discover if he has any further details regarding Ivan or his whereabouts.”
Francis widened his eyes. “Traverian… you know about that Mr. Grey?”
“He’s well-known in certain places. His inclusion is one of the reasons I suspect a measure of truth in Cobb’s tale.” Energy and excitement, the potential to find and distill further information, was almost intoxicating. “He was a mercenary of the most mercenary sort. He worked for whoever paid, simply enough, and he was very skilled. A job like this would be something he’d do.”
“Wow…” Francis shook his head. “I never guessed there was that much to Cobb’s story. I mean, he never did much more than drink when he was around. And hell, stuff about Ivan, people who knew him, met him, or pulled a heist with ’im were flyin’ all over the place. Hell, I even met a few blokes claimin’ to be Ivan. I know he had the name right, but I still sorta thought Cobb was just grabbin’ a piece of the legend for himself. Do you think it all really happened?”
I smiled. “Yes and no. If nothing else Cobb said was true, I think Ivan was there on Hunter’s End, and Cobb at least saw him. Could be someone else was the guide, or Cobb could have been telling the truth about everything.”
“Sheesh…” The barman swallowed, pinpricks of sweat standing out on his forehead. “You… you think then some of the other stuff they say about Ivan is true? Do you think he really blew up an entire—”
I held up a hand. “It isn’t clear as of yet, but I will find out.” I stood up, placing my wide-brimmed hat back atop my head. Straightening the long coat I wore, I gave him a nod. “Thank you, good sir, for your time and hospitality.”
“T’were my pleasure, Archivist.” Francis gave a bow. As I stepped towards the exit, the barkeep cocked his head and called out. “Hey, what did you say your name was?”
Turning back, I smiled one last time at this man I’d be doubtful to see again. “I didn’t. You may call me Sid.”
The barman nodded. “Well, I wish ye the best of luck in your search, Master Sid.”
“Thank you,” I said, stepping through the doors and into daylight.
The search had begun.
Assignment: Seeking information regarding the truth and whereabouts of Ivan.
Location: Dessida
Report: Located second-hand information source claiming Ivan completed a mercenary arrangement to hunt and kill a large creature for the ornamentation purposes of an employer.
Probability: 62%
Summary: Information featured various conjecture as to associations [Traverian Grey], appearance [large, bald, Old Earth, possibly eastern-European descent (Slavic?)], employment standing [mercenary], and possessions [small iron cannon referred to as Olga]. Overall event is probable within limits. Second-hand data is trustworthy, but original source likely provided significant embellishment and cannot be seen as fully reliable due to long-term brain damage from alcohol abuse.