Fiction:Great Cyrannus War/Year Three/Reunion

The Attempt
Communism; noun

1. A system of social organization in which all economic and social activity is controlled by a totalitarian state dominated by a single and self-perpetuating political party.

2. Pure evil.

So began one of Chief Ambassador Carillion’s favorite literary works, the Big Purple Book. The book was, obviously, a criticism of the communist system, and Carillion, being the anti-communist that he was, loved every minute of it. He was just settling down on the couch in his city residence on Scarolinos to read a few chapters when his holocomm beeped. Sighing, Carillion put down the book and looked at the holocomm. He had an incoming transmission from Karadril, his cousin and the GIE’s Emperor. Carillion pressed a button and a shimmering, miniature version of Karadril appeared in his hand.

“Carillion, there’s been a development in the V’eldrin situation,” the Emperor said without preamble. “I need you to pay a visit to their President at once.”

The V’eldrin were a humanoid species from the planet V’eld, located on the edge of GIE space. A fledgling empire, with only nine systems under their control, they were nonetheless of great import to the GIE, since their worlds were incredibly rich in resources. GIE ambassadors, including Carillion when he wasn’t on the front lines in the Cyrannus Galaxy, had been trying for months to negotiate a treaty that would bring the V’eldrin Empire into the GIE, but the V’eldrin were being very difficult about it. The GIE could have simply conquered the V’eldrin, but attacking an empire that had absolutely no chance of fighting back didn’t seem right, so diplomacy became the name of the game.

“What’s happened?” Carillion asked.

“The President insists on seeing you in person. He says they’ve almost reached an agreement, but he wants you there while they put the finishing touches on the treaty.”

Carillion frowned. “That’s rather vague.”

“Well, he seemed somewhat flustered during the transmission,” Karadril replied. “Perhaps he’s nervous about finally joining our empire.”

“Perhaps,” Carillion said, although he still thought the President’s behavior odd. “Well, I’ll get ready to leave, then.”

“A ship will be there to pick you up in fifteen minutes. Good luck.” Karadril cut the transmission.

Carillion shook his head. “Vague statements, flustered transmissions… they just don’t make Presidents like Apollo anymore.”

After a long trip through hyperspace, Carillion’s transport arrived at V’eld. He disembarked at the President’s personal landing pad, entered the Great House, as the President’s residence was known, and found his way to the President’s office.

The office was large, with a proportionally large panoramic window opposite the door, looking out over the rest of the capital city, Des’en. A hovercar floated past, piloted by security guards, patrolling around the Great House. More security guards stood along the office walls.

In the center of the office was a large desk, and at it sat the President of the V’eldrin Empire. He smiled at Carillion, but Carillion could detect a trace of nervousness in the smile. Walking forward, he extended a hand to the President.

“Mr. President. It’s nice to see you again.”

The President stood, took the hand, and shook it. “And you, Chief Ambassador. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Carillion sat down in a chair opposite the President. “So, I hear that work on our treaty is reaching its final stages.”

“Yes indeed. Would you like to see the latest copy?” The President extended an arm, holding out a piece of paper. The arm was shaking slightly.

Carillion took the paper. “Mr. President, are you all right?” He asked. “You seem a bit on edge.”

“On edge?” The President laughed shakily. “No, no, I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I’ve never been better.”

“If you’re sure…” Carillion wasn’t convinced. But he was very curious about how the treaty had progressed, so he looked down at the paper in his hands.

But instead of seeing a treaty, he saw only a single word, written on the page in black ink.

Gotcha.

“Mr. President, what-?“

But Carillion didn’t finish his sentence, because at that moment a number of other things happened all at once. The President drew out a small pistol and pointed it at Carillion’s heart. The security guards along the walls suddenly aimed their blaster rifles at Carillion and closed in on him. And from a hidden door near the window, a figure stepped into the room, wearing what seemed to be a jetpack on its back.

“Hello, Chief Ambassador,” the figure said, grinning widely at Carillion. “Long time no see.”

“You!” Carillion snarled. He knew that grinning face. He had seen it before, albeit without the grin, in a bar on Orbispira many months ago. That, time, this being had tried to kill President Apollo, but Carillion had managed to stop him. He’d only glimpsed the face then, and had been unable to put a name to it, but staring at it now, he knew who he was looking at.

“Ѐaltar Gauisa.”

“You recognize me!” Gauisa’s grin broadened. “Excellent. Now, if you’ll just hold still, we can put these stun cuffs on you and this whole affair will be over.”

“Not so fast,” Carillion said. His mind was racing. He was surrounded by armed foes and had no weapon himself. He had to stall, to think, if he was going to get out of this one. He turned to look at the President. “Mr. President, how could you do this?”

The President looked sadly back at him. “I’m sorry, Chief Ambassador. But he took my family hostage. I had no choice.”

“Exactly,” said Gauisa. “And neither, Chief Ambassador, do you. So just stand up without making any sudden movements, and we’ll be done with this in no time.”

Carillion remained firmly in his chair. “Where will you be taking me? And who’s paying you to do it? And why do they want me alive?”

Gauisa ticked off his answers on his fingers. “Somewhere far away, I can’t tell you who but they’re paying quite a bit, and I have no idea why but I really don’t care.”

At that moment, another hovercar floated into view, and suddenly, Carillion had an idea.

“Perhaps it has something to do with my ability to do this,” he said, and using his innate Psionic abilities, he grabbed hold of the hovercar and dragged it towards the window.

“Ability to do what? Stall for time?” Gauisa asked mockingly. But then, suddenly, he seemed to understand. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to shout something. But it was too late.

With a resounding crash, the hovercar smashed into the window. Glass shards flew everywhere, slicing into the guards, the President, and Gauisa. Carillion was unharmed, using his telekinetic abilities to deflect those shards that came at him. The hovercar slid along the floor, smashing into some of the security guards. Taking advantage of these two distractions, Carillion leapt up from his chair, jumped over the desk, ran to the window, and threw himself over the edge.