IT IS THIRTY MINUTES AFTER DAWN and I'm standing at a location I can't name for obvious reasons, since it is a favorite spot of a certain someone. This is a place she frequents whenever she has a moment to spare and I can only tell you that it's a beach and the view is simply breathtaking. It's an earth-like vista: White sand and a rumbling surf that stretches for miles without blemish or the annoyance of man-made structures. But this isn't Earth: We are on Emerald in the Cemiess system, and that tiny figure below, amiably beckoning me past a small army of intimidating security personnel that have been checking every micron of my recorder and person for the past hour (no AI enabled devices allowed: We're going purely electro-analog - cavities included!) is one of the most powerful women in the known systems.
Aisling Duval wants to talk.
When I first got that message a week ago I was sure this was going to be a run-of-the-mill-exchange, similar to what we all have seen and heard whenever the young royal seeks an audience with the press. The perfectly-manicured and immaculately-cultivated Miss Duval would offer a number of topics to choose from. A limited allowance of questions would be authored by yours-truly and approved/edited/rejected by the imperial goon squad over at Temple Rock where her propaganda unit is perpetually busy printing out eye candy posters about slavery and fashion or some such thing. Poignant blurbs about her diet and radical views towards reform usually reside within the same carefully prepared paragraphs that her fans devour like sweetmeats. The questions for a typical royal interview might as well be cooked up there as well.
In short, the nature of such an “interview” is usually preordained. Normally her highness would remotely answer only those questions that align best with whatever agenda of hers was matching today's outfit or message, and of course she would do so charismatic-ally and beautifully and entirely removed from the actual event of the questions being asked. We would never actually meet in person - for that is how journalism usually exists in the rarefied air of the Duval hemisphere. Regular people seldom get to breathe it.
But this was different, the audibly nervous voice exclaimed on that first connection. This was to be no propaganda piece (And as I sit here going to broadcast with this piece I have yet to see or understand any machinations that would lead me to suspect I have indeed been a tool for such efforts). This was, I was assured over and over, to be a no-holds-barred interview with the woman herself. Nothing is off the table I was repeatedly informed – and my skepticism was quickly reduced to subatomic level when during the second setup call I was suddenly speaking with her Royal Highness herself to arrange the meeting. Live. No handlers to be heard. Just her voice and mine and a tacit agreement to meet on Emerald at a to-be-disclosed location of her choosing for an honest chat.
It was unprecedented. I will repeat that word a lot. Even as I write this down, and days after the event itself, I still cannot quite fully comprehend it.
So then here we were less then a week later and my interview with the princess was about to begin: I was barefooted and strolling slowly and clumsily through immaculate pearl sand on an alien beach as the dawn broke on the horizon of what is justly said to be one of the most beautiful planets in the known systems, and I was about to interrogate Aisling Duval.
“Call me Aisling.”
Well that stops me short. I didn't expect her to be so.. normal? She is not a small woman, but certainly in life it is quite surprising to realize that she is no taller than I am. How tall should a goddess be? Surely taller? Plus we are both barefooted.
I must be over-exposed to those 30 meter glimmering holos of her in the main concourse of Mack Relay where I call home. I see her every day there. You know the ones where she is waving to the great unwashed masses like some giant glowy supermodel nun. Beckoning us all to a better life with that incredible smile and immaculate manicure.
Now, merely life-sized she is straight-backed and her handshake is decisive. A firm grip. She is smiling and her voice is soft but not small. She is instantly familiar and likable: The same smile. The same manicure. The holos don't lie about any of that. Now is also the time to mention that she is very beautiful, as expected. Stunningly so – so that simply to have her smile at you can knock the voice from your throat. The holos don’t lie about that either.
We exchange pleasantries: The glorious view, the world. The climate challenges and after-effects of terraforming that can be tasted on the metallic air. I purposely circle her with non-questions to try and get a feel for my subject, but her small talk is articulate, and guarded. She is sphinx-like in her serene non-committal to the conversation. The weather is lovely. The beach is beautiful. She hopes my journey here was pleasant. Yes she hopes the carbonation project will improve Emerald's biochemical cycle to the third variance.
Eventually I must dive in: The Bomb.
She gives a small nod and a smile "Begin with a bang I guess." We smile together.
The public was never told much more about the failed attempt on your life after it was thwarted.
“Mine and many others – I wasn't alone that day.”
Indeed. But you were the target? Is there any more information about who could have been behind the attack?
She inclines her head. To the side. It could be a yes or a no or simply a reaction as she observes a gull flying over the shoreline. She is impenetrable.
“I was probably the target yes.”
Is there any more information you could share? Has the investigation revealed any suspects?
We are walking slowly along a narrow stretch of pearl-white beach and a long silence ensues. Already five minutes in and I can’t help but fret for the 90 minutes of interview time I have been graciously given that is now being eaten away by her long pause. As a tactic to reduce the number of awkward questions the “long pause” is very effective, I begin to suspect - but I shouldn't be so uncharitable. The answers that follow become full and frank. Shockingly so.
“It would be stupid of me to say who we think was behind the attack – since we don’t have the evidence to ever prove the case. There was a lot of preparation in the effort. It was very professional. But we have a very good idea of who it was. And the attack didn’t go unanswered."
This is unprecedented. I feel I must repeat that. The princess is biting her lip, and I will come to realize during our time together, with a somewhat awe, that she is taking great effort now to reveal what she can and to be frank in her responses whilst refraining from overstepping that murky line where information becomes damaging or even dangerous. It is a masterclass in diplomatic caution and I am all too aware of something I had never expected to encounter today or ever: Her unfeigned vulnerability.
Do you think it was a foreign agency? Or closer to home?
"Both. It’s not unknown that we have – I have – many who stand opposed to what I do and say and even who I am. My name is a target. My works are a target. In that instance the level of insider knowledge to plan such an attack tells us that there were locals involved. Trusted people. And the level of sophistication, and the nature of the attack itself: The location and the ensuing drama that would have occurred. Very public. Very messy. That has all the fingerprints of certain foreign elements."
Will the public ever know who the aggressors were?
“Probably not in my lifetime. These things are held as secrets to avoid outrage, and I think that’s OK. I don’t want people seeking retribution on my behalf.” She smiles that delicate small smile again. “I can tell you that we do know who was involved, with a high level of confidence, and we have made it known to them that we know and they are regretting that action to the very utmost. It was the most costly non-event imaginable for them.”
You feel justice is being served?
“Absolutely.” The smile is toothy and she is suddenly a fantastically beautiful shark. I can't help but smile back.
I would love to keep prying there but I feel we can move on from it. Can we touch on the events pertaining to the engagement. Your engagement.
A small sigh. “Of course.”
Perhaps not everything has been said regarding the cancellation of your nuptials.
“Or too much has…”
Yes indeed – but for example your ex-fiance Jordan Rochester was very quiet on the subject following the Jarl Toredo interview.
“He is a quiet man certainly. And Jarl certainly wasn’t.”
His mother was the author of the public cancellation of the event?
"It was a mutually agreed upon message. But the decision was mine and Jordan's alone: We had the support of those around us, family and friends, when we took that decision. Isolde simply relayed the news as was her natural position. There is no recrimination between Jordan and I – or between our families. We remain friends and I commend him for refraining for speaking publicly and sparing us all further fuel to the flame."
The released interview with Toredo was the primary cause of the cancellation?
"We saw it natural to conclude the relationship for several reasons, some of which had nothing to do with what transpired when Jarl spoke as he did. Not least that the publicity surrounding that character assassination was going to be long-lasting and would undo a great deal of what both of us hoped to achieve."
Can you name the other factors?
"Ah. To be honest marriage is an intimidating proposition. I am sure many can relate. To dedicate your life to another in a partnership. Stepping into that. Affection, intimacy and trust. I can’t pretend to be any different from anyone else in wanting to be sure. Having thoughts. Doubts sometimes. Is this the right path? The right choice? Am I with who I was meant to be with.”
You had personal doubts about the marriage?
"I think anyone who says they don’t have any doubts before getting married is a liar or an idiot or one-in-a-million jackpot winner. Any of whom I would be quite jealous of at that moment when I had my own. But I had no doubts of Jordan’s sincerity or feelings, and I hold him in the highest regard. He would have been a devoted and truly wonderful companion. Perhaps in the end I was faced with my own limitations: That I am not yet ready to settle into the matrimonial path and the road to political dynasty. I was resistant perhaps, and what occurred afterwards, when Jarl spoke as he did, was simply a catalyst for the eventual dissolution of our arrangement."
“Dissolution of the arrangement” sounds very formal. Even businesslike?
“I suppose it does. There is definitely a business-like aspect to royal matrimonial affairs. What can be gained in the union. There is no secret to that.”
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