Character Interview: Emperor Alexander Furin the Second
Snow billowed between the high-rises, bright under the lights of the palace, as the Emperor's private railcar slid to a silent halt in front of the station. Imperial guards held the shouting and jostling crowd at bay, white-suited Revenants watching like ice sculptures behind them.
The reporter took an anxious step forward, and a guard shot him a withering glare. Wait until you're cleared, her eyes said. He swallowed and shrank back.
The railcar's hatch slid open. Guards poured out, dressed in white rather than gray, forming an additional barrier between the crowd and the Emperor. Under the main entrance's floodlights, everything shone--silver-lined walkway, gleaming Imperial railcar, pristine palace uniforms, all crisp and bright and flawless.
Then the Emperor emerged, and put them all to shame. A sun blazing at the center of its planets.
A ripple of activity rolled through the crowd. A hundred voices talking over each other, shouting profanities, demanding answers. The reporter glanced at the guard, and she gave a reluctant nod. He stepped out onto the walkway, alongside a dozen others--every major broadcaster in the Envares sector had sent someone.
The Emperor kept his eyes on the palace as he strode away from the railcar, as if the shouts and jeers couldn't reach him, but from up close, the reporter could see a shadow in his expression.
"Your Presence," he said, switching on his recorder and falling into step with the procession. Other voices tumbled around him, everyone asking the same questions. "Is it true the Imperial military has moved into formation around Tarya? Why is that necessary when the planet is already under strict quarantine?"
"It's merely a precaution," the Emperor said, not looking at the reporters.
"A precaution for what? Do you plan to take military action against civilian ships?"
"We wish to protect as many civilians as possible. All decisions regarding Tarya are made with that end in mind."
"Protect the civilians on Tarya?" the reporter pushed, a dark feeling growing in his stomach.
The Emperor met his eye, icy gaze chilling him to his core. "Protect everyone."
The reporter stopped walking. The procession, and his determined peers, continuing toward the palace. He felt his heart in his boots. "They don't have a chance, do they? That's why the relief efforts have been redirected." He spoke quietly, mostly to himself.
But the Emperor hesitated. A pause in his step, almost too quick to notice. The other reporters carried on, pressing with questions about the appointment of a new Steward of Education, or the amendment to the Neutroelectrism Protection Act. They'd already moved on from Tarya. After all, Tarya's fate would have no impact to Acathor beyond a fluctuation in price of Taryan silk.
The Emperor's noncommittal answer could have meant anything. Funds tied up in bureaucracy, some minor disaster on a hospital ship that had been covered up.
But that hesitation. That tiny fissure in the man's composure at the reporter's words.
The Imperium was going to begin orbital bombardment.
The reporter took an anxious step forward, and a guard shot him a withering glare. Wait until you're cleared, her eyes said. He swallowed and shrank back.
The railcar's hatch slid open. Guards poured out, dressed in white rather than gray, forming an additional barrier between the crowd and the Emperor. Under the main entrance's floodlights, everything shone--silver-lined walkway, gleaming Imperial railcar, pristine palace uniforms, all crisp and bright and flawless.
Then the Emperor emerged, and put them all to shame. A sun blazing at the center of its planets.
A ripple of activity rolled through the crowd. A hundred voices talking over each other, shouting profanities, demanding answers. The reporter glanced at the guard, and she gave a reluctant nod. He stepped out onto the walkway, alongside a dozen others--every major broadcaster in the Envares sector had sent someone.
The Emperor kept his eyes on the palace as he strode away from the railcar, as if the shouts and jeers couldn't reach him, but from up close, the reporter could see a shadow in his expression.
"Your Presence," he said, switching on his recorder and falling into step with the procession. Other voices tumbled around him, everyone asking the same questions. "Is it true the Imperial military has moved into formation around Tarya? Why is that necessary when the planet is already under strict quarantine?"
"It's merely a precaution," the Emperor said, not looking at the reporters.
"A precaution for what? Do you plan to take military action against civilian ships?"
"We wish to protect as many civilians as possible. All decisions regarding Tarya are made with that end in mind."
"Protect the civilians on Tarya?" the reporter pushed, a dark feeling growing in his stomach.
The Emperor met his eye, icy gaze chilling him to his core. "Protect everyone."
The reporter stopped walking. The procession, and his determined peers, continuing toward the palace. He felt his heart in his boots. "They don't have a chance, do they? That's why the relief efforts have been redirected." He spoke quietly, mostly to himself.
But the Emperor hesitated. A pause in his step, almost too quick to notice. The other reporters carried on, pressing with questions about the appointment of a new Steward of Education, or the amendment to the Neutroelectrism Protection Act. They'd already moved on from Tarya. After all, Tarya's fate would have no impact to Acathor beyond a fluctuation in price of Taryan silk.
The Emperor's noncommittal answer could have meant anything. Funds tied up in bureaucracy, some minor disaster on a hospital ship that had been covered up.
But that hesitation. That tiny fissure in the man's composure at the reporter's words.
The Imperium was going to begin orbital bombardment.
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