Arriving at Coordinates... The Interview : Day One

by Robert Smith and MaryAlyce

This is where she was supposed to be, at 0800 sharp, on Monday, Sept 
25th. She was prompt, and the palace guard was expecting her. She 
followed him obediently, but her eyes kept straying at the artwork, 
tapestries and various hallways and doors she passed on her journey. 
Her thoughts also pondered the same questions. Who was she going to 
work for? What was she going to pilot now? 
     The guard halted before an unmarked door, opened a hidden panel 
and placed his hand inside the recess. The door slid aside to reveal a
small alcove. Inside Ana noticed that there were no controls so it was 
not an elevator.  As soon as the door slid shut behind them, the wall 
in front of them slid back revealing a narrow corridor. The pair walked
down it's length and once again entered a small alcove. This time 
however, they were greeted by a woman at a desk she had one hand below 
and the other above outstretched, "Your Orders."
     Ana promptly produced her order and handed them over. The woman
studied them carefully and nodded. "Through the door, left, fourth
door on the right. Someone will be with you shortly."  
     The guard escorted her to her the room, saw her inside, then
promptly shut the door. For all she knew he could have been right
outside the door.   

     Thirty-five minutes, and still counting. Waiting was not her 
forte. Anastazya fidgeted, straightened her uniform about fifty times, 
and almost memorized the room. Daydreaming seemed to be more productive
than sitting and waiting and wondering. Soon, the young Jedi's image 
came to her mind, and his smile, and his soft voice, and his careless 
casuality of clothes and manner. He was so much the opposite of 
everything she was taught to be as an Imperial officer. So opposite....
     Stepping from a corner Anastazya was sure was empty, a man walks
quickly and quietly to the chair opposite her. He is dressed in a 
simple brown suit, white shirt and brown tie, well fitted to his 
muscular frame. He sets a file down in front of himself and opens it. 
Then he places a data pad next to it. Slowly, he reads through the 
first few pages of Anastazya's Imperial Employment folder.
     "Do you owe anyone any money?" he asks without stopping his 
     "No, I have had no need since my entire career has been on ships 
or remote outposts," she said flatly.

     He jots a quick note to himself on the data pad. "Are you more 
than 90 days late on any payments?"
     She looks at him with incredulity, "No!" 
     "Do you now or have you ever been working with any mercenary force
in the last 10 years?"
     Anastazya giggles somewhat, and smiles.  "No."  She sits more at
ease now, and crosses her leg.
     "Where do your loyalties lie?" The man is now reading parts of her
folder she has never seen, all the time entering notes on her
responses into the data pad.
     "With the Imperial Forces that I serve," she says. 
     "Have you been in contact with anyone in the Alliance in the last
     She blushes and hesitates, then straightens up and responds.  
"Yes, I guess. I met a gentleman who I believe has Alliance ties.  I 
have written to him once.  He was...." she blushes, ".... attractive."
     "Have you been aligned with the alliance in the last year?" He
closes her Imperial Employment folder and begins reading from what 
looks like a private investigator's report. Anastazya clearly sees 
pictures of her arriving on Coruscant, leaving her residence building, 
at a grocery.
     "Aligned?" she says looking shocked.  "No. If you got the real 
goods on me, you would know that enroute here, I battled a small horde 
of pirates with only a shuttle, to save one of the Imperial outposts. 
And I won,... sort of," she says with pride.  "My 'loyalties' lie with 
those I serve." 
     "Have you been captured by anyone in the last year, or held
prisoner, or against your will?" Every questioned asked is in the same
monotone voice as if he were reading directly from a script.
     "No," she says flatly.
     "So, you admit you are attracted to the Alliance?"
     "Excuse me?" she says, again looking like the man hasn't heard 
her. "No, and what part of being a hero for the Imperial service makes 
you think I would be interested in the Alliance?"
     "Have you ever broken the law?"
     She laughs. "Probably not. I don't remember doing anything against
the law anywhere."
     "Have you ever committed treason against the Empire?"
     She gets serious.  "No."
     "Have you ever considered treasonous acts against the Empire?"
     She hesitates, looks at him like he is nuts, and replies, "You are
doing this on purpose, aren't you?"  She straightens up her uniform.  
"No.  I serve the Imperial Navy."
     "What is the name of your Alliance contact?"
     She startles somewhat. "You mean that attractive man? I think his 
name was Derrick. I only met him once. Maybe twice.  In passing."

     "So, you're loyal to the Imperial Forces and not the Empire?"
     "Well, that is an interesting twist.  The last I heard, the 
Imperial Services served the Empire.  And I serve the Imperial Services.
I don't consider one separate from the other."
     "Has your contact in the Alliance given you a better offer?"
     "Offered me something?" Her eyebrows raise.  "No.  I am happy with
my job in the Imperial Services."
     "Please lie in response to this next question, is your name 
     She laughs.  "No."

     The questioning goes on for hours, repeating questions about her
background, her loyalties, her choices. He is twisting her words around.
Making her sound like a spy for the Alliance. He asks her several times
to lie to a specific question, all of minor import (hair color, name, 
eye color...). He does not respond to any of her questions, nothing 
more than spouting questions and writing notes on the responses, even 
when the exact same answer is given to the exact same question. He 
shows the emotions of a droid, none.

     As the hours drag on. Anastazya gets frustrated. Despite switching
her crossed legs a few times and making many adjustments to her 
uniform, she remains seated. She begins to understand what is required 
of her and repeats her answers, sometimes with moans and groans, but 
responds to all questions with the same responses.  She maintains 
loyalty to her job (and is), but she doesn't seem to be telling 
everything about the young man.  In case he is reading her mind, she 
begins to think of Psylocke when her "association" with the young man 
is questioned, then she changes her thoughts, on purpose, as if she 
suspects he is reading her mind.

     Finally, late into the evening, the interviewer comments, "That 
will be all for now, return here tomorrow morning at the same time and 
we will begin again."

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