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 reading. "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 year?" 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 Anastazya?" 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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