"Governor, per your instructions, we have strictly enforced the 'Veteran Resettlement Act' across the entire Sub-Sector," the head of enforcement's report echoed in the high-domed office, his voice producing a subtle reverberation beneath the gilded dome inlaid with the Imperial Aquila.
He stood at military attention, the front of his black uniform, trimmed with silver thread, darkened by sweat, and the data-slate in his hand hummed imperceptibly with his slightly trembling fingers.
Alex stood silently before the floor-to-ceiling panoramic window, his back as straight as a pine tree.
Outside the window, the sky of Rostov II stretched before him, the light of the star casting dappled shadows upon him through the stained-glass.
On the ancient stained-glass, the sacred image of the Emperor's descent was lifelike, and golden light spots flowed across the Governor's uniform, adding a touch of majesty and divinity to him.
His left hand habitually stroked the hilt of the master-crafted power sword at his waist, while the data-slate in his right hand continuously flashed the latest security reports.
"Give me the exact figures," Alex suddenly spoke, his voice as calm as the stillness before a storm.
This sentence caused the servitor skulls in the corner of the office to pause their floating trajectories, hovering in mid-air and trembling slightly.
From their hollow eye sockets, mechanical eyes emitted a faint hum, swiveling in unison to focus on the head of enforcement, their red dot scanners casting several small light spots on his uniform.
Alex still hadn't turned around, but the head of enforcement could clearly feel the Governor's gaze watching him through the cold reflection of the floor-to-ceiling window.
That gaze seemed to penetrate the glass barrier, pressing down on his shoulders with a tangible weight, causing his spine beneath his military uniform to involuntarily tense.
He subconsciously swallowed, his Adam's apple moving with difficulty at the collar of his uniform, the dry swallowing sound particularly jarring in the dead silent office.
The numbers on the data-slate suddenly became blurry, and he had to discreetly wipe away the sweat drops on the screen with his sleeve, his Adam's apple bobbing as he organized his words.
Outside the window, a transport ship ascending emitted a deafening roar, but the silence in the office at this moment was more suffocating than any noise.
The head of enforcement's Adam's apple bobbed, and he unconsciously swallowed, his fingers rapidly sliding across the holographic projector: "The first five thousand retired veterans have all been assigned to grassroots positions, with results far exceeding expectations. They have not only filled police vacancies but also brought military discipline and combat experience…"
He pulled up a set of 3D data charts, projecting them in the center of the office: "Taking Sector Seven as an example, after Sheriff Paul took office, the crime rate dropped by 82%, and the case clearance rate increased to 95%. They established militia patrol teams, community defense networks, and also…"
"I can see the data." Alex suddenly turned around, slamming the data-slate heavily onto the desk inlaid with the Imperial Aquila, producing a dull thud. The sound made the head of enforcement's shoulders twitch involuntarily.
Under Alex's deep-set eyes were dark circles from days of sleeplessness, but those eyes were still as sharp as a hawk, staring intently at the head of enforcement: "What I want to hear is, why is the overall crime rate still above 60%?"
His voice was not loud, but it was like a drawn sword, its sharp blade gleaming coldly in the silence.
The air pressure in the office seemed to drop instantly, and even the air solidified into substance. The Imperial flag hanging on the wall stopped fluttering, and the data stream of the holographic projection also seemed to slow down.
Fine beads of sweat seeped from the head of enforcement's forehead, sliding down his temples and leaving several dark marks on the collar of his military uniform. He subconsciously wanted to wipe them away but froze under Alex's cold gaze.
His mechanical bionic eye flickered unnaturally a few times, emitting a faint electrical sound, a malfunction reaction that only occurred when he was extremely nervous.
He was about to explain the problem of insufficient manpower when he saw Alex had already strode to the holographic projector, his slender fingers directly cutting through layers of data charts, his movements as decisive as if he were slitting an enemy's throat.
The blue light of the projection cast shifting shadows on his stern face, outlining his profile as sharply as if carved by a knife.
"Here, Kuzbass Mining Zone, crime rate 72%." Alex's fingertip pressed heavily on the projection, and with each number he reported, his voice grew colder, like a freezing lake: "And New Tashkent Star, 69%."
His gaze swept over the head of enforcement like a blade, dangerous light flickering in his pupils: "Is this what you mean by 'significant results'?"
The head of enforcement opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, about to explain the issues of insufficient manpower and civilian riots, but Alex suddenly raised his hand to stop him.
This movement was decisive, like an invisible gate, blocking all excuses in his throat.
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