Fiction:Maximilian's Fall

Approximately one year ago...

Maximilian, Emperor of the Gjigantrox Interstellar Empire, relaxed in the captain's chair of the No Escape, his personal starship. He was currently out in deep space, taking a short trip to relieve the stress of running an empire.

The Emperor leaned back and thought. When he returned to Scarolinos, the Empire's capital, he had several tasks to complete. First and foremost was the execution of Rallon Nez. Nez was a dissenter, having spoken out against Maximilian's policies. He had even attempted to array forces against the Emperor before he was caught. Maximilian hadn't decided how to kill him yet; he wasn't sure if disembowelment or the electric chair would hurt more.

He smiled a cold, cruel smile. Nez was a fool. None could oppose the might of the Emperor.

But Maximilian was wrong about that. At that moment, off to the No Escape's left, someone appeared who could. Numerous someones, to be precise.

Maximilian was thrown from his seat as the ship rocked.

"What was that?" The Emperor shouted.

"Sir, we've been hit with something!" That was one of Maximilian's officers. "Our engines- their gone!"

"After one hit?" Maximilian was shocked. What could have that kind of firepower?

"Sir, I'm reading four ships to our left, three to the right," called a sensor officer. "They're big sir, capital ship size."

"We have an incoming transmission from one of those ships, sir!" cried a communications officer.

Maximilian was completely confused. One moment they'd been drifting alone, and suddenly they were surrounded and immobilized by seven capital ships!

"Put... put the transmission on the screen," the Emperor stuttered, still unclear on just what was going on."

On the screen appeared a creature, apparently bird-like in nature. At least, it's beak seemed birdlike. The bird-thing was blue, and it wore a set of optical visors.

"Emperor Maximilian," it said. "I am Admiral Horlin of the Delpha Coalition of Planets. We are here to transport you back to your capital world of Scarolinos."

Maximilian gave the Admiral an icy smile. "I thank you for your kind offer, Admiral, but we're perfectly capable of getting back to Scarolinos ourselves."

Horlin ignored the jest. "Your ship is being boarded as we speak. You will surrender, and we will return you to Scarolinos to await the judgment of Emperor Karadril."

That sent a shiver down Maximilian's spine. Karadril was his cousin, and the ex-Emperor. Three years ago, Maximilian had betrayed Karadril, and usurped the throne from him. but he could not bring himself to kill his cousin, with whom he had once been so close. Instead, Maximilian had exiled Karadril to a remote world, hoping never to hear from or about him again. From the way Horlin talked, he could guess at what was going on: somebody had contacted the DCP, and had enlisted their aid in putting Karadril back on the throne. And he could guess who that someone was.

"Carillion," he spat under his breath. Chief Ambassador Carillion, Maximilian's other cousin. On the night Karadril had been deposed, Maximilian had paid Carillion a visit as well. He had given him a choice: Serve as Chief Ambassador under the new regime, or die. Maximilian didn't trust Carillion, not in the least, but he was a valuable resource, and the Emperor always kept a very, very close watch on him.

Apparently, that hadn't been enough.

Maximilian knew that Karadril would have him executed without a second thought. That meant that he couldn't surrender. He also couldn't flee, because his engines were gone. That left one option. He had to fight. He knew that it was hopeless; he'd heard of the DCP before, and he knew that their technology far surpassed that of the Gjigantrox. His troops might hold off the boarding parties for a little while, but certainly not long enough for help to arrive.

Besides, Maximilian's long-range comms were jammed.

He took a deep breath and looked at Admiral Horlin.

"We will fight."

He cut the transmission.

Moments later, Maximilian was alone on the bridge. All of his troops were manning their positions throughout the ship, bracing themselves as the first waves of DCP soldiers boarded the No Escape. Maximilian didn't know why Admiral Horlin didn't just blast the immobilized ship out of the sky, but he really didn't care. It was of no consequence. He swiveled the captain's chair to face the bridge's door.

He sat, and he tried to come to terms with his death.

He thought about the things he'd done. About his childhood, about his adventures, about that fateful night three years ago. He thought about Karadril and Carillion. They had been his best friends once. Now, he had betrayed one and been betrayed by the other.

Maximilian listened to the screams and the shots and the explosions coming from nearby hallways. To him, they were the sounds of his world, falling apart. All he had had, all he had achieved, was going to end today.

Some had called him a tyrant. Cruel, cold, heartless. Maximilian knew that when he died, few would grieve. The people would rejoice to have Karadril back in power. They had despised him.

He didn't care.

He was going to die. The people didn't matter. The Empire didn't matter. This was the end.

The Emperor stood. He drew a large sword from his belt, and held it in his upper hands. In his lower hands were two blaster pistols. He could hear footsteps now, running towards the bridge.

Whoever they were, Maximilian was going to give them a last stand to remember.

The door exploded, shooting shards of metal everywhere. Maximilian reached out with his mind and, using the Psionic abilities inherent in all the members of the Imperial House of the Gjigantrox, directed much of this shrapnel at the first figure coming through the door. The being, whatever it was, let out a yell and fell dead to the floor. Another figure charged in, and it leaped straight towards Maximilian. The Emperor set it off balance with two quick sword strokes, and then came around for a third strike that cut the being in half.

The third figure, Maximilian could tell, was a true warrior. It did not charge in like a mad thing; instead it walked through the door frame, looking at the Emperor with two calm, confident eyes.

Maximilian tried to blind those eyes with a pair of blaster shots.

But the warrior was quick. He ducked and rolled, coming up at a run. He struck at Maximilian with a vicious overhand swipe, then brought his sword about for a strike at his foe's midsection. Maximilian leapt easily away, but soon realized that the intent of the attack hadn't been to harm him- it had been to take his blasters out of commission. And it had worked- both of the pistols had been sliced nearly in half.

The Emperor cast them aside and focused back on is foe. The warrior pressed the attack again, slicing to the left, then the right, then stabbing.

Maximilian spun away from this last attack and ducked, continuing his spin into a whirling slash that aimed to cut his opponents legs out from under him. But the warrior leapt over this attack, and he came down with his blade plunging at Maximilian's head. Maximilian rolled aside and decided to employ another Psionic trick. Backing away from his foe, he telekinetically lifted the sword of one of his fallen attackers. Then, he sent it shooting towards his opponent's back. At the last second, the warrior heard the blade coming. He sidestepped it and without looking snatched the thing out of the air. He looked calmly at Maximilian.

The Emperor struck an overhand blow at the warrior, who caught the strike as his own swords crossed. Then he pulled the weapons back and sent both sailing in at Maximilian, one from each side. The Emperor stepped back, and as the swords crossed paths, he stabbed viciously at his opponent's face.

With speed that Maximilian would not have believed possible, the warrior brought both swords up and deflected the stab. Then he set in with a series of slashes and hacks, and Maximilian parried. He returned with attacks of his own, and for a few moments they stood, toe-to-toe, blades whirling, waiting for the other to make a mistake.

Maximilian struck from the right, bringing his blade across towards the warrior's body. As he had anticipated, the warrior parried this blow with both swords. But the force behind it carried the weapons, and the warrior's arms, to Maximilian's left. There was an opening.

Maximilian struck, putting all the rage, all the anger, all the despair he felt into that single blow.

And the warrior sidestepped it with ease.

It had been a feint. The warrior had seen the move coming, and had left the opening on purpose. Now Maximilian was off balance, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Both of his foe's blades sailed in, piercing his armor, tearing through skin and muscle and organs.

He blinked. The warrior pulled the swords out of the Emperor's body. Maximilian stumbled backwards, and then collapsed into the captain's chair.

The warrior turned and began walking towards the bridge door.

"Wait." Maximilian rasped.

The warrior turned, surprised.

"Your name." Maximilian could feel the life slipping away from him. "I have to know."

The warrior seemed surprised. Then, he did a strange thing. He bowed his head in respect, acknowledging a worthy foe.

"Kilnok."

He turned and left the bridge.

As his consciousness slipped away, Maximilian held one last thought in his mind.

''If I were still alive... I'd buy him a drink.''